


Banishing Darkness

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 15:02:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6381082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newly christened Police Commissioner Dean Winchester has enough to deal with: disrespect because of his young age, detectives to handle, cases to solve, and his brother's wedding to plan for. He doesn't need to develop a very inappropriate attraction to Gotham's caped crusader on top of it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on fanfiction.net in 2013 and is now being crossposted here along with the rest of my work. I had fun with this one, actually. I'm a sucker for Batman.

_He was saved on a Thursday._

_At least, that's what he'll be told later on, in the hospital. They'll also tell him he was imprisoned for four months, along with several other unlucky bastards._

_It feels more like forty years._

_Time is of no meaning here, in the constant dark. Only the fires light it up with their flickering tongues of heat, and the stuff he sees makes him wish the flames would go out._

_He's got someone on the rack when it happens. He'll pass his psych evaluation with flying colors and no one will say it's his fault, but he feels like it is. He could've kept saying no. He could've been stronger._

_There's the sound of screaming, and at first he thinks it's just a new batch, but then he realizes it's the henchmen. They're not screaming in pain, either--they're screaming in fear._

_He feels a hand grip his left shoulder, so tight it bruises. He'll be informed that other witnesses claimed the individual yelled at him, tried to snap him out of it, and only the bruising pain got him to stop._

_He looks up and sees the dark, covered face, blue eyes shining like the heart of a flame--a different flame than that which burns down here, in the Pit. It's the fires of renewal, of cleansing, of rebirth._

_He'll be informed, when he wakes up, that he was unconscious for three days after they found him._

_They'll also inform him he's the only survivor._

_What he doesn't tell them--what he won't ever tell anyone--is how all he dreamed about in those three days was that blue, blue fire._

* * *

Dean Winchester woke up in a silent scream.

His body was drenched in sweat, the sheets damp and tangled around his body. For a terrifying moment they felt like ropes and chains, holding him in place. He flicked on the lamp, reassuring himself that he was in his tiny dump of an apartment instead of that stifling, dark netherworld.

He staggered out of bed and shuffled over towards the living room, turning on the TV as he went to snatch a beer from the fridge. Tonight had been one of the bad ones. This time, there hadn't been a blue-eyed stranger to save him.

Dean reminded himself that it was a nightmare. He'd gotten out--or been yanked out, rather--and he'd survived. The bastard was in Arkham along with the other psychotic loonies, and Dean was still standing.

He was the only one standing, in fact. Out of the few dozen men and women tortured by the Sinister Comedian, only Dean had made it out. All the others had died during a session or passed on in the hospital soon after rescue.

Including the one Dean had been torturing when he'd been saved.

"And the Mayor has announced that Deputy Chief Dean Winchester will be taking over as Police Commissioner from Robert Singer, who retired last week. Former commissioner Singer was paralyzed from the waist down after a shootout a few months ago while trying to rescue several prisoners from Alastair Carnifice, known as the masked villain The Sinister Comedian. Carnifice's sidekick Meg Masters, known as Sketch, was also apprehended. Deputy Chief Winchester was one of the prisoners, and the only one to survive the terrifying ordeal." The newscaster's face was pretty and bland, a mask of solemnity as she reported.

Dean took a vicious pull from the bottle. He'd told his rescuer to put him in jail; to leave him, even, and save the others. Dean wasn't worth saving at that point. He'd given in, started hurting others the way he had been hurt. He'd become one of  _them_.

"…was rescued by the masked vigilante known as Seraph…"

Seraph. Dean snorted. It was a stupid name, really. He preferred the name he'd given the man--whoever he was--in his head:

Thursday. After the day he had been rescued.

"The question on everyone's mind, of course, is can the new Commissioner finally do something about the crime rate in Gotham? Commissioner Singer began making headway before his incapacitation, and one can only hope that our new Commissioner will follow in his mentor's footsteps. Mayor Novak…"

Mayor Michael Novak, King of the Pricks. Dean turned off the TV and made his way back to bed. Once upon a time there'd be a girl or a guy in there waiting for him, but not since the Pit. He wasn't going to share his demons with just anybody.

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing his forehead. Sure, he was Bobby's protégée, so to speak--his son, really. Dean and his little brother Sam had lost their mother, Mary Winchester, in a fire when Dean was only four and Sam just a baby. When their father John had learned that an arsonist was responsible, he'd gone on a rampage. Bobby had watched his partner tear himself apart trying to find the man who'd murdered his wife, and then been forced to hold John Winchester as he lay dying after being reckless in a shootout. He'd taken in two scared, lost, angry boys and raised them as best he knew how, and without his guidance Dean wasn't sure he and Sammy would have turned out as good as they did.

But now Bobby was in a wheelchair and out of commission for trying to save Dean's worthless ass. It was yet another thing to feel guilty about. The man had mentored him all through his years as a detective and Dean had paid him back by getting him paralyzed. Some son he turned out to be.

Thank God Sammy was doing well. Graduated from Stanford, went on to become a hotshot lawyer, putting criminals behind bars. In fact, if it weren't for Jess, Sam could've been D.A. by now, instead of that dick Raphael. Between him and Michael, Dean was certain his new job was going to be nothing but one massive migraine.

At least Raphael hadn't given him the job to get into his pants. Dean was pretty much convinced that was half the reason he had the job now--the other reason being that he had been Bobby's second-in-command, and knew what the former Commissioner's plans for the city had been.

Still, if Michael leered at him one more time…

Dean flung himself back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Tomorrow was his first day as Commissioner.

He didn't think he was going to get any more sleep that night.

* * *

"Gird your loins! The boss is here!"

Dean flipped Det. Jo Harvelle the bird as he strode past. "Just for that, Harvelle, you can buy the first round," he told her.

"Fuck you, Winchester."

"Not for a million bucks," he shot back. At least his team wasn't treating him any differently. He had enough shit from the underlings as it was. He heard what people said, especially as nobody was bothering to lower their voices.

His first day had been nothing short of Hell. Okay, bad analogy. But it had still been a shitty day. The minute he stepped into the Roadhouse, however, and saw his friends sitting in their usual seats, it had all melted away.

"So, Dean…" Det. Anna Milton swiveled around on her barstool, her face serious. "How are you liking your new job?"

"It sucks ass." He plunked down next to her, with Victor on his right. "How about you, Victor? How's the new partner?"

Victor Henriksen pulled a face. "Dude's an asshole and a half."

"I heard that," Det. Benny Lafitte drawled as he approached. He had several beers in hand, which he distributed.

Victor grinned. "Still, he's not as bad as Harvelle here."

Jo tried to punch Victor, but ended up nailing Dean instead. He rubbed his shoulder. "Geez, Jo, watch it."

"Children, children," Ellen Harvelle, Jo's mother and owner of the Roadhouse, chided as she walked up to them. "If you're going to fight, do it outside so I don't have to make Jo clean it up."

Dean grinned. This, more than his office or his apartment, was home. He'd spent countless hours here, working the bar or hustling pool, or just sipping a beer with Benny and Victor.

"So you're not settling in too well?" Anna pressed.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What's it to you, Anna Milton?"

The redhead rolled her eyes, fiddling with the label on her beer bottle. "It's just… there's this, um, thing next month…"

Dean sighed. "Let me guess--another society party."

Anna nodded. "You have to put in a couple public appearances anyway, right?"

"Anna, I'm not going to be your beard just so Uriel will leave you alone," Dean argued, taking a sip of his own beer.

"It'll be fine. You won't have to stay for long, just an hour or so. All you have to do is put on a suit, show that pretty face of yours, and be my arm candy. You don't even have to talk."

"I'm the commissioner. People are going to want to talk to me. Rich, stuck-up people who want to make sure Kitten isn't going to get their grandmother's pearls."

Victor slammed his beer onto the counter, which earned him a black look from Ellen. "I swear when I catch that bitch…"

"…you'll tell her all about how obsessed you are with her?" Jo teased. This led to bickering between the two.

Anna rubbed her temples. "I swear those two just need to get it on before my head explodes."

Dean nodded in sympathy. As Victor's partner before the new gig, Dean had been forced to listen to Victor and Jo's version of flirtation (i.e. arguing) all day every day. Now, Anna--as Jo's partner--had to suffer through it on her own.

Well, there was Benny, but the guy was so stoic when Dean had first met him he'd thought Benny was a mute.

"So will you? Please?" Anna pouted, batting her big eyes. Dean sighed. He'd known from the get-go he wasn't going to win this battle.

"Fine. But," He pointed a finger at her. "You owe me big for this, Milton."

"Oh, I'll make it up to you." Anna grinned.

"Make what up to him?" A booming voice asked as a large hand clapped Dean on the shoulder.

"I got Dean to be my date to Michael's birthday next month," Anna explained to the giant that was Sam Winchester.

"Wait--what?" Dean spluttered.

Sam laughed. "I take it she didn't tell you that."

Dean glared at Anna. "I expect something big for this, Anna. That guy looks at my ass like he wants to eat it."

"Well, it is a good ass," Anna noted.

Sam laughed even harder.

"All right, wise guy." Dean elbowed his brother. "Why are you so late, anyway?"

"I'm afraid that's my fault," a sultry voice cut in.

Both Dean and Anna's eyes widened as they took in the brunette standing before them.

"Dean, Anna, this is Ruby Thomas," Sam said. Dean knew that tone. It was Sam's hopeful puppy voice. "Ruby, this is Dean, my older brother, and Anna, one of Gotham's finest detectives."

"So you're the famous Dean Winchester." Ruby smiled, sticking her hand out. Dean didn't like her smile, but shook her hand anyway. "Sam's told me a lot about you."

"Funny, he didn't mention you," Dean replied, smiling back.

He wasn't going to lie--this was a shock. Sam had been on a total of one date since Jess and Madison's deaths, with some art gallery owner named Sarah. The date had gone well, as far as Dean knew, but Sam hadn't been ready to commit. Now he had a new girl and he hadn't even thought to tell Dean?

To her credit, Ruby didn't rise to the bait. "I'm afraid that's my fault. I'm Sam's secretary and I wanted to keep our relationship quiet. You know how office gossip is."

Oh, did Dean ever.

Still, he was gearing up for his obligatory big-brother interrogation when Benny tapped him on the shoulder. "It's almost ten pm, brother," he warned him.

Dean looked at his watch. "Shit!"

He jumped up from the stool, giving Sam an enthusiastic hug. "I'll catch you later," he said, making sure to put a warning note in his voice. Office gossip or not, Sam was going to explain why he hadn't told Dean about his new relationship.

"We'll talk," Sam muttered, sounding like a kicked puppy. Dean clapped him on the arm and headed out.

"Good luck!" Anna shouted.

"Show the Caped Crusader who's boss!" Jo yelled.

"Don't be cocky!" Anna quickly added.

"But be tough!" Jo shouted over her.

"Let the man handle his own business," Victor grumbled, covering Jo's mouth.

Victor's shout of pain as Jo bit his hand was the last thing Dean heard as he hurried out the door.

* * *

The roof of the Gotham Police Headquarters was dark and a little windy, save for the signal lighting up the sky. The massive searchlight had a cutout on it, sending the image of angel wings into the night sky. Dean fidgeted. He felt exposed, up there next to this ridiculous overblown flashlight.

But it was Thursday, and that was the day of the week when Bobby had met with Gotham's self-appointed protector to discuss the crime situation. Now that Dean was Commissioner, it was his job.

Well, maybe it wasn't a part of the description, but Bobby had threatened him with some rather colorful punishments if Dean didn't continue the tradition.

"He's the best ally we've got against the crazies, boy, and don't forget he dragged your worthless ass outta Hell," Bobby had snapped, nearly running Dean's toes over with his wheelchair.

So there Dean was, standing out in the cold, feeling like an idiot.

"Commissioner."

"Holy shit!" Dean jumped back, turning around. That voice so close to his ear – smooth and gravelly, like whiskey poured over broken glass – made him jump about a mile. He hadn't even known the guy had been there.

"Warn a guy next time, Thursday," he snapped, feeling his face flush. Even though the guy had saved his life, he'd never gotten a good look at him before. Now, he couldn't stop himself from getting an eyeful.

The outfit was all black, leather by the looks of it but Dean knew it was padded with something stronger than that. The mask covered everything except for the mouth area and those bright, burning blue eyes. Dean couldn't be sure but judging by the skintight (okay, yeah, really skintight) suit the guy was built like a swimmer, lean instead of bulky. Didn't prevent the guy from having a nice six-pack, though.

But it was the wings that really caught the attention. They were pulled in tight against the vigilante's back, arched up like cocked pistols so Dean couldn't get the best look, but they appeared black and glossy, melting into the night. Dean's fingers twitched. What would it be like to run his hands through them, to pull a little and–

"Thursday?" He saw the (plump, wow, really plump) lips twitch slightly. Geez, the guy had a strong jaw…

"Sorry," Dean said, feeling his face heat up.  _Damn it_. "It's just…" He chuckled. "You rescued me on a Thursday. And uh, you meet--met--with Bobby every Thursday."

That earned him another lip twitch. "This is true."

Hot damn that voice was deep. Dean swallowed. Just his luck that the first person he was attracted to after his ordeal was the city's protector… and the man that saved his life.

"So," Dean cleared his throat. "About the Falcones…"

* * *

"Back so soon, Castiel?"

Castiel ignored the smug tone in his butler's voice. Balthazar was his childhood best friend and served his family well, as had his father before him, but he was a cheeky bastard when he wanted to be.

"Yes," Castiel replied, peeling off his mask.

"And how did it go with the new Commissioner?" Balthazar spun around in Workstation 2's revolving chair, grinning like a loon. "I've only seen him on television, of course, but he's quite the pretty boy. And that mouth…"

It was times that these Castiel regretted telling Balthazar he was gay. And was partial to blondes.

"We discussed the mob and Kitten's latest jewelry theft," Castiel said drily, sitting down at Workstation 1 to enter the information from the night's work. "And the incarceration of Sinister Comedian and Sketch, his sidekick."

"Didn't you kiss her once?" Balthazar asked, propping his feet up on the desk.

"She kissed me first, and it was a distraction technique," Castiel growled. "Get your feet off the table."

Balthazar did as he was told, still grinning. "I think this new boy toy's an improvement over the last one," he said.

"Thank you for your opinion. Not that I asked for it," Castiel replied. "And Commissioner Singer was a good man. I will miss his knowledge and levelheadedness."

"Ah, but now you get sex on a stick as well as all that knowledge stuff. Singer did raise Winchester after that whole arson episode," Balthazar noted, standing up. "I'll make you a sandwich, shall I?"

"I don't know why you bother. I don't ever eat them."

"Hope springs eternal." Balthazar started up the steps. When he got halfway up he paused, a thoughtful look sweeping over his face. "You know, that's something you two have in common."

Castiel stiffened.

"You both lost…"

" _Don't,_ " Castiel growled.

"I'm just saying; you need to get to know the man. Earn his trust. This is common ground," Balthazar pointed out.

Castiel sighed. "He is my ally, Baz--a work partner. He is not a friend. I saved his life and put the man who tortured him in a padded cell. That should be more than sufficient to earn his trust."

Balthazar looked like he might say something more, but seemed to decide against it, shutting his mouth and heading up the stairs. Castiel continued to enter the night's report, trying--and failing--to banish the image of Dean Winchester from his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

"Paging Gotham's guardian!" Charlie's voice rang out in the cave, startling the bats. "Y'know, it's ironic that the man they call Seraph lives underground. Shouldn't you have a high tower or something?"

Castiel kept his eyes trained on the computer. "I presume this is important, seeing as you are here in person and not simply messaging me."

The cheerful redhead known to the crime-fighting world as Pythia plopped down into a chair, swiveling with her arms folded.

"I'm hearing whispers."

"What kind?" Castiel still didn't look up.

There was a long silence--so long, in fact, that Castiel finally pulled himself away from the screen to look at her. Charlie Bradbury was as talkative as they came, but now she was biting her lip in concern.

"Pythia…" Castiel growled quietly. "What have you heard?"

"There are rumors of a new crime lord," Charlie began carefully. "At first, I treated it as any other gang, but these people… they're different. The men have a fanatical devotion to some mysterious leader. They seem to operate on a basis of principle instead of simple gain. And then there's the strange tattoo they all have on the sides of their necks."

Charlie pulled a printout from her backpack, handing it to Castiel. The tattoo was crude in design, but easily recognizable as a demonic face.

"They match up with the tattoos worn by members of a fanatical terrorist cult in the Middle East," Charlie explained. "They've existed in the area for centuries, according to those who are brave enough to talk, but next to nothing is known about them. Their leader is supposedly immortal, and they're said to be the perfect assassins."

"If they're based in Asia, then why are they here?" Castiel wondered, still staring at the picture of the tattoo.

"Good question," Charlie sighed. "It took a lot of digging, but I discovered one of their beliefs is that they have the job of cleansing the earth. When a city becomes too corrupt or 'damned', they come to destroy the city and punish the people."

Castiel frowned. "And now they are in Gotham."

Charlie nodded. "I hate to say it, but if they're here, then something big is going down."

"The crime rate in Gotham has gone down slightly, thanks to the efforts of Commissioner Singer, but it's still unusually high," Castiel observed. "And now that Singer–" He cut himself off. "When did these men start appearing?"

Charlie grinned, but it was watery. "Already thought of that, boss. These men started appearing a week after the news broke of Bobby's retirement."

Castiel nodded, putting a hand on Charlie's knee. She had been living with Singer since her mother, a friend of Singer's, had gone into a coma. Charlie had been a teenager then, and it had hit her hard. She'd turned to hacking as a distraction, and that was how she'd gotten onto Castiel's radar. She'd hacked into his files and informed him that she knew everything--including his identity--and was offering her services. They'd been working together ever since, and Castiel had grown fond of her as he'd watched her grow from a chatty teen into a nerdy, but wonderful young woman. He knew that Singer's injury had hit her hard, yet she was carrying on bravely.

"Does Winchester know anything about this?" Castiel asked.

"Dean? No." Charlie shook her head. "And he won't, not until you tell him. He's head of the city police--he's not really concerned with the situation in the Middle East."

"I'll tell you what he  _is_  concerned with," a voice rang out.

Castiel swiveled in his chair. "Hello, Anna," he said.

His cousin traipsed down the stairs, grinning. "Sam's got a new girlfriend," she informed Charlie, ignoring her older cousin and crime-fighting partner completely.

Anna might have been slightly younger than Castiel, but she had twice his daring. As Valkryie, she was his comrade-in-arms, continuing her role as his closest family member, but she had the tendency to rush in or land herself into a fix because she didn't take the time to analyze the situation.

She also had the unfortunate habit of discussing non-work related activities when they were on duty, something Charlie needed little encouragement on. Their ongoing refusal to admit they were hopelessly in love with each other was just the icing on the cake.

"He does?" Charlie was vibrating with excitement. "Since when?"

"Since a month ago, apparently," Anna said, approaching them and leaning against the desk. "Dean won't admit it but he's pissed."

" _He's_  pissed? I'm pissed!" Charlie exclaimed. "What does she look like?"

"Small, brunette, hot as hell, and looks like just as much trouble," Anna described. "Her name's Ruby, and apparently she's Sam's new secretary."

"Ooh, getting it on with his assistant." Charlie laughed. "Finally, the golden boy does something bad."

"I just wish it wasn't at the expense of Dean. He doesn't like the look of her," Anna said.

"He told you that?"

"He didn't need to. You should've seen the look on his face. In fact," Anna's eyes slid over to Castiel, and she grinned slyly. "If he hadn't had a very important appointment, I think he would have chewed Sam out in the bathroom."

Castiel pointedly ignored her. Anna had been trying to set Castiel and Dean Winchester up for years, despite Castiel's protests that a relationship with anyone was a bad idea. He didn't have time for a proper relationship, nor did he feel comfortable lying all the time. And what if someone were to discover his attachment and hurt them, use them against him? He couldn't put another person's life at risk that way. He'd never even had a one-night-stand.

Still, now that he'd met him face-to-face, he couldn't deny that Dean Winchester was nothing short of a Greek god. The man's smile made Castiel's knees weak, and Dean had been fully clothed. Castiel couldn't help but wonder what he looked like with that uniform off…

He mentally shook his head. It was a bad idea, no matter what angle you looked at it.

"If you two are finished gossiping…" He started, only for Anna to cut him off.

"She seems nice enough," the crime fighter mused.

Charlie nodded innocently. "Oh, I'm sure. Sam has great taste."

"And she must be respectable, being the secretary of such a prestigious prosecutor for the DA and all," Anna went on.

"Her background must be squeaky clean," Charlie added, nodding sagely.

"It would be meddling of us to check," Anna said, sounding perfectly nonchalant.

Charlie pulled her laptop out of her backpack and started typing. "What are families for?" She said cheekily.

Castiel sighed. "I'm going to patrol the east side," he graveled.

"We already did patrol," Anna pointed out. "It's two in the morning."

Castiel leveled a glare at her and Anna shut up immediately. "Fine. Go patrol," she said, but her voice held no malice. The lines around her jaw were soft, and she stared at him with that sad look in her eyes--the one he'd seen those dark eyes hold often when she looked at him over the years.

It was moments like those, when he saw the sadness he'd brought to the one family member he cared about, that he almost regretted his mission.

Almost.

"I'll see you later," Castiel graveled, turning on his heel.

"Remember to go shopping with me! You promised!" Anna shouted.

"Take Baz. He likes that sort of thing," Castiel replied.

He didn't turn around to look, but he knew his cousin was flipping him the bird.

* * *

The silence was deafening after Castiel left.

Charlie typed away on her computer, wishing she knew what to say.

"He's a good person." She finally offered, wincing at her own words.

Anna laughed. "That's an understatement." She leaned back against the desk, bracing herself with her hands. "I just… I wish he took time for himself."

Charlie paused in her typing, hearing the weight in Anna's voice. "You okay?"

Even if she could never be more than a friend to Anna, even though Charlie was certain the gorgeous redhead would never return her (enormous, embarrassing) crush, they had a bond in Castiel. Along with Balthazar, they'd had to watch as Castiel became more and more absorbed by his mission, powerless to stop his single-minded determination.

"I wish he'd let himself be happy." Anna's voice was incredibly soft. "Dean and the others… that's what keeps me sane, y'know? The people in your life, those friendships, that love… that's what keeps you from being all about the mask." Anna lifted her head, smiling at Charlie. The hacker felt her face heat up; Anna's smile was gorgeously blinding.

"Good thing I don't wear a mask, huh?" Charlie joked, trying to lighten things up.

Anna's eyes lit up to match her smile. "Good old Charlie," she teased. "Always keeping me sane."

"Anything for the good of Gotham." Charlie saluted.

Anna laughed quietly, and Charlie went back to typing on her computer. Mask identity crisis successfully averted.

It was a minute or two before Anna spoke again.

"So… I was wondering… if you were doing anything on Friday." Anna scuffed her toe along the floor.

Charlie frowned. "The usual--work, watch baseball with the boys, maybe do some shopping with Jo… and, of course, we're on-duty at night… why?"

Anna ran her lip along her top teeth, looking adorably nervous. "I was wondering if you wanted to get something to eat before I go out on patrol and you hook up to the computer," she said hesitantly.

Charlie frowned. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Do you want it to be a date?" Anna replied, raising her eyes to meet the other redhead's.

Charlie gulped. She'd flirted with Anna for years--ever since they'd met, in fact--but Charlie had always thought her deeper affections were one-sided. She was a geek, hopeless in social functions or romantic situations. And then there was Anna: gorgeous, kickass, princess of Gotham High Society. She'd never go for someone like Charlie.

And yet… who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth?

"Yes," Charlie said quickly.

"Yes to it being a date or yes to going?" Anna asked, looking tentatively excited.

"Both," Charlie replied, grinning.

Anna grinned back.

* * *

"Take my love, take my land, take me where I cannot stand…" Charlie sang.

"What the hell has made you so chipper?" Dean groused, rubbing his temples.

"Nothing," Charlie said a little too quickly.

"Uh-huh," Dean muttered. "Sure. Where's that old coot got to?"

"That 'old coot' can hear you just fine, son," Bobby informed him, rolling into the living room. "And is that makeup I see on your face?" He demanded, looking at Charlie with suspicion.

"Yup!" Jo burst into the room, answering on Charlie's behalf. "And she still needs eye shadow."

Charlie's expression of terror was hilarious, and Dean couldn't help but laugh.

"What are you here for, boy?" Bobby asked, narrowly missing rolling over Dean's toes as he made his way into the kitchen. It had taken a bit but once the former commissioner had gotten used to the wheelchair, he had become deadly in his skill.

"Just wanted to check in, see how everyone's doing," Dean said. He didn't want to admit he'd been worried about them. Ever since the Pit and Bobby's spine, he'd been stopping by the apartment above Singer's Auto Shop twice as often as before.

"We're all doing fine, except for Charlie here who's finally decided she's a girl," Bobby said, glancing over at the redhead who was currently being cajoled by Jo into wearing mascara. "What d'ya need that stuff caked on your face for anyway? You're just going to be watching the game tonight."

"She has a  _date_." Jo informed them, pointing an accusing finger. "And neither one of you is going to tease her."

"Aww, Charlie, that's great." Dean grinned. "Although, if you'd just let me set you up with this chick I know from the precinct…"

Charlie glared at him as best she could while remaining still for Jo to apply her makeup. "I feel like a Barbie doll," she noted through clenched teeth. "We're just getting some burgers, Jo, geez."

Jo gave Charlie a scarily withering glare. "Trust me, when she sees what I've done to your face she'll skip the burgers and whisk you off to her… apartment? Where's this chick live anyway?"

"Yeah." Dean leaned against the counter. "Sammy and I need to give her the third degree, make sure she doesn't break your fragile gamer heart."

Charlie flipped him off.

"Boy, that girl's sweating bullets without your help," Bobby noted. "You have an appointment to get to."

"Missouri'll have your ass if you're late," Jo said triumphantly.

"Can it, Harvelle," Dean said without any real malice. "I knew Charlie was always your favorite, Bobby, you old softie."

This time Bobby really did run over Dean's toes. Jo laughed uproariously at Dean's undignified squawk of pain.

* * *

"Hello, Dean." Pamela Barnes smiled over her computer. "You're early."

"Great. Let Missouri know that." Dean sank into a chair with a groan. "I need all the help I can get to get on her good side."

"Trust me, Winchester, you are on her good side," the secretary informed him.

"And that's why she smacks me on the back of my head every day," Dean snorted, grinning.

When Pamela grinned back, he felt a twinge in his gut. Once upon a time he'd have gotten her into bed, no problems whatsoever. But now… now he couldn't do that. The thought of letting someone--man or woman--into his bed that he didn't know, didn't trust…

Because it wasn't just about sex anymore, and not just because of the stuff the Comedian (Alastair, Missouri said it would help to call him by his real name, wash away some of the "god complex" or something) had done to him,  _made_  him do. It was because being intimate with someone meant they would be there when the nightmares hit. They'd see the vulnerable side of him; see the past that his mind still wouldn't let go of. They'd see Dean Winchester, open and exposed and still terribly, terribly raw.

He wasn't ready for Sam to know. He wasn't ready for Bobby to know. He wasn't ready for Ellen, or Jo, or Charlie, or any of the guys at the precinct to know. And if he couldn't let in his very best friends, his family, the men and women who'd had his back his entire life… if he couldn't let them in, then how was he supposed to let in a complete stranger?

The phone rang, and Pamela picked it up. "Yes? Yes, he's here. I'll send him in." She put the phone down and nodded at Dean. "Dr. Moseley will see you now."

Dean gave her his most charming smile as he left the waiting room and entered Missouri's office.

Missouri Moseley was a renowned psychotherapist and the single most terrifying woman Dean had ever met. He was pretty sure she had a soft spot for him by this point, but it didn't stop her from snapping at him if he put his feet on her coffee table. Today when Dean entered she was carefully writing some notes on her ever-present notepad, a cup of tea (filled liberally with sugar) sitting on the coffee table.

"Dean." Missouri gestured for him to sit. She didn't smile, but she didn't glare either, which Dean considered an improvement.

"Dr. Mosely," Dean replied, making himself comfortable in the leather chair across from her.

"How are you feeling today?" She asked.

"All right," Dean shrugged. "Traffic was shitty."

"When is it not?" Missouri replied, taking a sip of tea. "How is your new job treating you?"

"Like the traffic," Dean quipped.

Missouri treated him to a sternly raised eyebrow, and Dean shifted in his seat.

"It's all right. The paperwork's a bitch but that's nothing new."

Missouri nodded, making a note. It was most likely about how Dean was still only giving her half-truths. They'd discussed Dean's parents, about how Dean was convinced Mary's death was his fault and untangling the mile-wide snarl of string that was John Winchester, but more recent issues Dean wasn't too sure about sharing. It was one thing to let go of the past, but his problems as Commissioner were very much in the present, raw and stinging. He didn't know if he'd be able to trust anyone to help him with his current issues.

"And how is your relationship with Seraph?"

Dean shrugged. "Good, I suppose. The guy's mysterious and works on his own but he's got a good code going on. He doesn't hurt anyone unnecessarily, never uses guns or anything like that. And he always lets us do the formal arresting. I don't know why everyone complains about him--he's respectful to the department and he cares about the city. I don't see what's wrong with that."

"You seem rather passionate about this subject," Missouri noted, scribbling something on her notepad.

Dean felt like a bug under a microscope. Make that a see-through bug under a microscope.

"The man saved my life. He tried to save the others, too. Their deaths weren't his fault. He got a whole bunch of us out, and things would have been worse for the police if he hadn't been there. Hell, Bobby could've ended up dead instead of just stuck in a chair, y'know? I know there are a lot of people who support him but there are plenty who don't, and speak out about it. The guy is going out there, risking his life, and gets no thanks or recognition. Nobody even knows who he is. And it's not fair."

Missouri nodded, letting silence fall. She waited until Dean had started to grow nervous before she spoke again.

"Perhaps it would be good for both of you if you let him see your appreciation?" She suggested.

Dean snorted. "Have you seen the guy?"

"No, I have not," Missouri responded. Dean felt like he was in kindergarten and had broken the rules again.

"Well, he's… he's got these wings. I haven't gotten a good look at them yet, nobody has, but they're freakin' huge. And the guy's ripped. I mean I work out and I'm still a little soft in the middle. This man, I mean there is not a spare strip of meat on the guy. He took out the Comedian, and Sketch, and a whole bunch of henchmen to get to me. He's a one-man army. They call him  _Seraph_  for fuck's sake. Do you know what that means?"

Missouri probably did know, but waited for Dean to explain. She was always expecting Dean to explain things like that, claiming she wanted to hear things 'in his own words'.

"They're a kind of angel. I looked it up--the word literally means 'burning ones.' They glorify God and are warriors of Heaven.  _Warriors_. That's what this guy is. You think someone like that needs my approval?"

Missouri made another note. "First of all, Mr. Winchester, we have discussed your use of names. The Sinister Comedian is Alastair, and Sketch is Meg Masters. Use their proper names. And, just like them, Seraph is human. He is a man, same as you. All humans need to feel validated, to know that they are valued and cared for. Just as you need to feel that your efforts as Commissioner are appreciated and that you deserve the post, so does Seraph need to feel that his sacrifices and effort are appreciated by those he protects."

Dean swallowed. Whenever Missouri called him by his last name he knew he was in for it, and although she never raised her voice, that woman was scary. "Yes ma'am," he replied.

"Good." Missouri set down her notepad. "Now, how is Sam doing?"

They always closed their sessions by discussing Dean's family, since they were the people he could always freely talk about. Sam, Jo and Charlie were his little siblings, and he had plenty of opinions to share about them.

"He's got this new girlfriend, apparently, named Ruby…"

* * *

_Here he comes, the lone survivor…_

_The last man standing…_

_It's only because Singer practically raised him, you know._

_I guess Michael's letting his personal tastes get the better of him._

_At least he's got a cute ass, right?_

_Watch out--it's Singer 2.0_

It was hilarious, how they all thought he couldn't hear them. Or it would have been hilarious, if Dean were in a joking mood. But after two weeks of listening to the not-so-quiet whispers and seeing the subtle glances exchanged between underlings, he was ready to call it quits. The paperwork was giving him a migraine nearly every day, nobody got anything done in a timely matter, and he missed working the streets. The rumors about the reasons why he'd been promoted were just the icing on the cake. Of course it wasn't his spotless homicide record and reputation for closing cases. Of course it couldn't be his hostage negotiation skills. Of course it wouldn't be the fact that he knew the Triads and the current undercover operations inside and out. No, Dean Winchester must have been named Commissioner because he was good-looking and they all knew Mayor Novak had a weakness for the pretty boys. (Never mind the fact that said Mayor was in a heated on-again off-again relationship with his intern Adam Milligan, a fact that nobody was supposed to know about and therefore everyone knew about.) Did hard work and brains really mean nothing? Was it all politics?

Dean had never been a quitter; in fact, he was so stubborn and held onto lost causes for so long it was practically a complex. But the truth was this job was wearing him down faster than he could have ever imagined. This was his ultimate goal, after all. This was what he'd been working towards all of his life. Sure, the job had come about five years earlier than he'd expected, but it was still his dream job. So why was he absolutely miserable all the time?

He had a creeping suspicion that fate was laughing at him.

Even his Deputy Commissioner, Jody Mills, wasn't allowing him any slack. He'd known her for years, seeing as she was married to Rufus Turner, head of the Fire Department and Bobby's best friend, but if he used her 'mom voice' on him one more time…

The only thing that was consistently good about his job was the weekly visits from Gotham's self-appointed guardian.

It was Thursday, and Dean was wishing he'd brought more than just his usual leather jacket to help against the cold. October was on its way out, and soon snow would be falling. He'd have to start wearing about seventeen layers just to walk from the car to his apartment.

"Commissioner."

The gravelly voice that starred in Dean's shower sessions alerted him to the hero's arrival. Dean turned and saw that the man was in his usual spot; crouched on the ledge of the building, those great wings carefully folded behind him. Dean wanted to see what those wings looked like in the light, stretched to their full glory, but he didn't have the guts to ask. He was sure they'd be magnificent.

"Hey, Thursday." He grinned.

The caped crusader gave a grunt in return.

Right. Down to business.

"Halloween's on the way," Dean noted. "Which means Evil Eye's going to be planning something big, just like every year. We don't have to worry about the Sinister Comedian or his partner Sketch this year, so we should be good on that front."

"Keep an eye out for copycats," Thursday noted.

Dean nodded. It was a good point. "Gotcha. Got any solid evidence against the Dealmaker? We raided his Crossroads Club last week but came up empty. I don't even know why we keep trying."

"Crowley is doing an abnormally good job of keeping his nose looking clean," Thursday replied. "If anything new surfaces, you will be the first to know."

Dean chuckled. He got a quizzical head-tilt in return, something he'd learned was Thursday's sign of confusion.

"It's just… you always call the criminals by their actual names. Doesn't matter who they are, whether it's the Comedian or Evil Eye or the friggin' Conundrum; you always go by their legal names."

Thursday appeared to contemplate this a moment before replying. "I have found that putting on a mask gives you a kind of mythological power; people see you as an entity, an expression of ideas rather than a mortal being. You are no longer human, but something more. In the case of the rogues, this can be an aid to spreading fear. In calling them by their civilian names, I remind myself that these are simply mortal men. Insane, dangerous men, but still… human."

Dean grinned. "Sounds like something my shrink told me."

"Then your money is not being wasted," Thursday intoned.

"She'll be glad to hear that."

Thursday tilted his head again. "How are you doing, Dean Winchester?"

Dean swallowed. Thursday hardly, if ever, addressed Dean by his name, preferring the professional title of Commissioner.

"I'm fine." He shrugged, feeling self-conscious. "Some bad days, some good. Back to full physical health, which is a friggin' load off my shoulders."

His casual attitude did not seem to sway the dark figure on the building's edge, who simply nodded once, curtly. Dean thought that was the end of it, but then the masked vigilante spoke again.

"I know that it is hardly a consolation, but I wish you to know… I am sorry." Thursday's voice dipped even lower, sounding grave and almost contrite. "I had hoped to reach you sooner."

Dean noted that the man said  _you_  and not  _you and the others_. "It happens sometimes. We all have bad luck or make mistakes."

Thursday leveled those burning blue eyes at Dean, as if the idea of Gotham's guardian making mistakes was simply out of the question. Dean had to lower his gaze to the ground, unable to keep meeting that intense stare.

"Nevertheless, I wish to express my condolences. I deeply regret that it took me so long to reach you."

Dean felt the inexplicable urge to reach out and squeeze the guy's shoulder, to physically reassure him that he did all that he could, the fact that he got Dean out at all was a miracle, and he had nothing to be ashamed or regretful about.

When he looked up to reply, he found himself alone on the rooftop.

* * *

"Yes, Michael. Balthazar has handled the entire thing," Castiel informed his brother, trying to hide the weary irritation in his voice. He was only halfheartedly listening to his eldest brother, his attention almost entirely focused upon the research he was conducting.

"I don't know if Adam has responded. You practically share an office; why don't you ask him yourself?" Castiel replied, scrolling down the screen for information on Asmodeus.

"Well yes, your refusal to quell the rumors that you appointed Commissioner Winchester just to get into his pants is probably why your intern-slash-boyfriend has been giving you the cold shoulder," Balthazar's voice chimed in, probably from the kitchen phone.

Castiel was then treated to Michael's lecture to Balthazar on manners, Balthazar's snide comments on Michael's love life and moral compass, and the various insults that were thrown in by both parties.

The definition of family had to be the urge to hug and strangle them at the exact same time.

Absentmindedly, Castiel pulled up the Comedian's file. He was still safely interned at Arkham, just as he had been that morning. While the sensible part of Castiel knew that he'd receive an alert should Alastair escape (as he undoubtedly would, thanks to the shitty security at the asylum), he'd compulsively checked ever since rescuing Dean.

In fact, if he were honest with himself, Dean Winchester had been in his thoughts ever since Castiel had yanked him out of the Pit. The man had held on for so long, lasting weeks longer than any other prisoner, and when Castiel had come for him, he hadn't wanted to be saved. He'd begged Castiel to save the others, to leave Dean, because Dean felt he was no longer worthy of saving.

Castiel longed to prove him wrong.

Realizing that both Balthazar and Michael had hung up in self-righteous indignation and he was listening to the dial tone, Castiel set down the phone. He had to focus.

Getting back to his research, he noticed something intriguing. Asmodeus and his cult (there was really no other word for it) had garnered quite the reputation in the past twenty years. Yet there was absolutely no information on the man or his following before that time. If Asmodeus was as ancient as everyone seemed to think, wouldn't he have been making moves long before then?

Determined to learn more, Castiel dove into his work.


	3. Chapter 3

"I really don't see the point of all this, Balthazar," Castiel grumbled, letting the Brit adjust his tie. Despite having grown up wearing them, Castiel had never quite mastered the ability to get the tie to lie flat. Whenever he did it, it always flipped around.

"Master Michael is all about fanfare," Balthazar noted. "And you know he loves to network."

"Yes," Castiel admitted. "What I fail to see is why he has to involve me."

"You're the one who lives in the manor," Balthazar reminded him. "And if I'm not mistaken, it was Miss Anna who insisted you dress nicely and attend for at least an hour."

While each of the Novak boys were 'master', Anna was not only a Milton by name but was not in charge of running the house, demoting her from 'mistress' to 'miss.' Not that Balthazar meant it in a patronizing way, nor did Anna mind.

Castiel examined himself in the mirror. The suit did fit him well, and the tie brought out the blue of his eyes. Still… unless it was a gala to benefit the Foundation, he didn't like public appearances. He was seen enough with Foundation work that no one could label him a recluse, but society gatherings were not for him.

"I suggest that you relax, Castiel," Balthazar noted dryly. "And try not to look like you're going to the executioner."

"Who says I'm not?" Castiel replied. Anna had been particularly giddy lately, and that always precluded some kind of plotting.

Of course, it might have just been her planned date with Charlie. Still, Castiel's suspicions were up.

"And remember to smile," Balthazar said, stepping away. "Not that lip-twitch thing you do."

Castiel tried smiling. Balthazar's reaction was one of comical horror.

"Forget it. Never, ever do that again. You look like you were hit with the Comedian's Laughing Gas," Balthazar said, clutching at his heart.

Castiel rolled his eyes. From downstairs came the faint sound of tinkling glasses and female laughter.

Might as well get it over with, he supposed.

"Into the valley of death…" he quoted to himself.

"And don't mutter. You already look slightly like a psychopath, you don't need to sound like one, too."

Castiel casually flipped Balthazar off, British style, as he left the room.

* * *

When Dean opened the door to Anna's apartment to pick her up, he was greeted with the sight of the redhead swirling about the room, humming something that sounded suspiciously like it was from  _The Little Mermaid_.

"I take it the date went well on Friday?" Dean inquired.

"It wasn't a real date. Just… burgers," Anna admitted, grabbing her coat and clutch purse. She turned to face Dean, and he could get the full effect of her outfit.

"Why, Anna Milton." Dean grinned. "Turns out you know how to clean up after all."

Anna did a little twirl, showing off her deep green dress. "I had some help picking it out."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Was this help a smokin' hot female, by any chance?"

Anna groaned. "I wish. It was my antisocial cousin and our butler."

Dean could feel his eyes bugging out. "You have a  _butler_?"

"Well, my cousins do, over at their family estate. That's where we'll be attending the party, by the way. His name's Balthazar, and he's like a sassy gay friend except he likes girls, too."

"Y'know, I could've helped you out. I've always assisted Jo with her important dates," Dean pointed out. He'd helped Charlie too, come to think of it. He'd be a fucking stereotype before he knew it.

"Thanks, but I needed an excuse to drag Castiel out of the house. He's like Mr. Rochester," Anna remarked.

"That novel was overly dramatic," Dean quipped. Most people were surprised when they learned that Dean was an avid reader, his favorite book being  _Slaughterhouse Five_ , but he often had lively discussions with Anna and Sam. He usually saved his more, well, 'nerdy' debates for Charlie, such as  _The Dresden Files_.

Anna eyed him up and down. "You don't look too bad yourself, for the record," she decided.

"Thanks," Dean replied sarcastically. "Let's get this thing over with."

"Your enthusiasm never fails to astound me," Anna replied.

* * *

Novak Manor was fucking  _huge_.

When Dean had imagined the place, he'd pictured something out of the Hamptons. He certainly hadn't imagined what looked like an eighteenth-century mansion from England dropped into the center of a sprawling estate, complete with an immense garden.

Dean pulled up the drive, relinquishing the keys to Baby with reluctance. The black '67 Impala gleamed, standing out against the sea of monotone Mercedes-Benz and other such luxury vehicles. He could see a couple of the men looking at the ride enviously. Dean grinned to himself.

"Shall we?" Anna said, laying a hand on his arm.

Dean grit his teeth. "Sure," he muttered.

The inside was, if possible, even more impressive than the outside. The main staircase would have made the one on the  _Titanic_  jealous, the delicately patterned marble floor was so shiny he could almost see his reflection, and was that a  _solid gold_ punch bowl he was seeing?

Dean's skin itched, like something was crawling just under the top layer of it. This kind of thing was all well and good for some, but just watching Gotham's elite prance about the room was sickening. This was the sort of place for Sam, who would just turn on that thousand-watt smile and charm his way through everything, or for Anna, who'd grown up with it. But for Dean, with his blue-collar background and his love of the simple things, this felt almost as bad as the Pit.

He caught sight of Mayor Michael Novak chatting with an older couple, and his stomach twisted. This was going to be a long night.

"Dean?" Anna prodded him. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Dean nodded absentmindedly, wondering how much of his dignity he'd sacrifice by hiding out in the bathroom the entire time. He heard movement, and a mumbled protestation, and then Anna was speaking again.

"Castiel, this is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is my youngest cousin, Castiel Novak," Anna said.

Dean turned… and felt like he'd been walloped by a ton of bricks.

Castiel Novak was one handsome fucker.

A mop of soft, almost downy dark hair helped frame the most attractive face Dean had ever seen, complete with a plump, kissable mouth and piercing, laser-blue eyes. He was almost as tall as Dean, too, and wearing a black suit that hugged all the right places. The guy was sporting a blue tie to match his eyes, and Dean's traitorous libido couldn't help but wonder what'd be like to wrap it around his hand, use it to pull the guy closer…

"He's the baby of the Novak family," Anna went on. If she noticed Dean's undoubtedly stunned look, she didn't comment on it. "And Castiel, I'm sure I've told you about Dean. He's the ringleader of our Roadhouse Rat Pack."

"So I've heard," Castiel said.

Wow, that voice was low and dry and hitting Dean in all the right places. It also sounded… well, he'd say familiar, but it was probably just his imagination.

"Well, I'll leave you to it." Anna's grin was far too knowing. Why that little… "I'd better go and greet the birthday boy."

She bestowed a kiss upon each of their cheeks and swept off.

Dean swallowed.

"So… Castiel, was it?" He asked.

Castiel Novak nodded, causing his dark hair to flop into his face. The man had an extremely somber expression on his face that Dean found inexplicably adorable.

"I've heard a lot about you, Dean," Castiel said, and boy if hearing the guy say his name didn't do things to Dean's pants…

"Oh, really?" Dean forced his most charming grin onto his face, nerves be damned.

"Yes. Anna thinks quite highly of you," Castiel replied.

"Good to know, Cas," Dean said. He winced. Two seconds of knowing the guy and already giving him a nickname? Smooth.

The corner of Castiel's lip twitched. "Cas?" He inquired.

Dean shifted his feet. "Just, uh… your name is kind of a mouthful."

"It could have been worse. I might have been saddled with Lucifer," Castiel noted dryly.

Dean laughed before he could stop himself. "Seriously?"

Castiel nodded. "Fortunately my older brother was, shall we say, graced with that name. I was named after the angel in charge of the day I was born: Thursday."

Dean was briefly reminded of someone else connected to that day, but banished the thought before it could fully form. "So you don't object?"

Castiel tugged his bottom lip between his teeth thoughtfully, and Dean felt his neck heat up. "No," Castiel said, after a moment of apparently deep contemplation.

Dean grinned, relieved. "Glad to hear it. So, Cas… I'd offer to buy you a drink, but Anna informs me there's an open bar."

"Yes. It's just this way," Castiel indicated behind Dean. He cocked his head, like a curious kitten. "Are you suggesting you would like to have a drink with me?"

God, the guy was adorably dorky. "That's exactly what I'm suggesting, Cas."

Castiel nodded, his lips twitching again in what Dean figured was a smile. "Then yes."

The bar itself was massive, off to the left of the main ballroom (was that the right word for it?), in a slightly smaller lounge that looked like it was straight out of 1920s Paris. Dean had spent some time carving when he was a kid, creating little treasure boxes and things--he'd always loved working with his hands--and he'd need a closer look but he was almost certain that the bar was hand-carved mahogany. The intricate designs were most definitely hand-carved, anyway.

Man, was he ever out of his element.

Still, the presence of alcohol eased the tension in his shoulders a little. He settled into a stool next to Cas, who raised two fingers silently at the bar tender. The barkeep was blond, with a scruffy almost-goatee and a charming, ruffled air about him. He set two single-malt scotches in front of them before moving to help some other guests.

"Nice choice," Dean smirked, picking up his glass. Castiel's eyes looked down, embarrassed.

"I hope I wasn't presumptive," he said.

"Far from it." Dean's smirk turned into a full-on grin. It was nicer than the stuff he usually drank, but he could appreciate a good, stiff one. He held his glass out. "Shall we?"

Castiel tilted his head again. "Toast? What to?"

Dean shrugged. "Who cares? To getting through this evening alive, to good scotch, to meeting…"

Castiel's eyes warmed and softened. "I'll drink to that," he graveled.

Dean felt something clench in his stomach. "Me too," he admitted, his voice a bit more hoarse than he'd intended.

He downed his drink, letting the familiar sliding burn settle him. It wasn't like he hadn't picked up someone before, or even an unusually attractive someone. But Castiel… this guy looked like he'd fallen from Heaven. And it had been a while since Dean had been with someone. He could be making a huge mistake here.

But when he set his glass down and looked into Cas's face, there was unguarded warmth in the man's eyes, a kind of cautious magnetism, as if he were being pulled to Dean in the same way Dean was being pulled towards him.

"So, Cas… what do you do for a living?"

It was a lame question, but the first one he could come up with.

Castiel moved one shoulder up and down, an awkward half-shrug. "I'm in charge of the Novak Foundation. I'm head of the board and basically run everything. Michael can't be bothered with any of the real work and Gabriel has no hand for business."

Dean had heard of the foundation--it was ranked as the most efficient charity organization in the world, and supported several other organizations such as March of Dimes. Created by the Novak brothers to honor their parents' philanthropy, it had done immeasurable good over the years. Dean felt honored and a little intimidated to be meeting the person behind all of that.

"The foundation's done a lot of good. You do a great job," Dean commended Cas. "I'm surprised you're not heading NE, too."

"By all rights I should be running Novak Enterprises as well, since Michael prefers politics and, as I said, Gabriel can't be bothered, but with that firmly in the hand of the Board there isn't much for me to do."

"Sounds like it sucks," Dean observed.

"It does, rather." Cas chuckled, a short, throaty sound that made Dean's dick twitch. Damn these tailored pants. "But I love the foundation. It helps continue my parents' legacies. You're the new commissioner, unless I'm greatly mistaken."

"Got it in one," Dean admitted. "Of course, it's partly because your brother's got wandering eyes but it's my job. Can't let the vigilantes have all the fun."

Castiel nodded. "I'm sure they… step on your toes, so to speak."

"What, Seraph and Valkyrie?" Dean snorted. "They make it ten times easier to do my job. Without them the theme rogues would've overrun the city by now. Given us some help with the Triads, too."

"That is good to hear." Some of the tension seemed to bleed out of Castiel's posture, and he flicked his eyes down Dean's body before bringing them back up to meet his gaze again. "I heard about your… ordeal, with the Sinister Comedian."

Normally Dean hated it when people brought the subject up, but there was an added weight to Castiel's voice. It was almost like he had been there himself, and knew what Dean had gone through. Which was impossible but still, the way he said it…

"Yeah. Not gonna lie, I'm glad the bastard's in Arkham," Dean admitted.

"As am I. I cannot imagine what it must have been like for you," Cas said.

Dean shrugged. "Well, y'know, you pick yourself up. Dust yourself off, move on."

Castiel tilted his head again, his eyes narrowing slightly as if Dean were a puzzle he was trying to solve. "I'm sorry. I'm terrible at small talk."

Dean laughed. "It's okay. I'm terrible at these…" He waved his hand. "Social things."

"You're doing just fine," Castiel assured him.

"Thanks, Cas." Dean grinned. "You're not too bad yourself."

Castiel blushed, looking away. "I admit I am not comfortable at these things, either." He looked back at Dean, licking his lips. Dean's eyes zeroed in on the movement before he could stop himself. "Perhaps I could give you a tour of the house? That would remove us from our societal obligations for a while."

Castiel's gaze was intense, going bone-deep, and Dean couldn't help but put a less innocent spin on the invitation.

Dean's smile grew. "Are you propositioning me, Cas?" He asked.

Cas adopted a deer-in-the-headlights look for a moment before marshalling himself. "What if I was?"

Dean's pants were starting to get too tight. Maybe it was the dry spell, but he was pretty sure nobody had turned him on so quickly with so little. "I'd say not for nothing, but the last time somebody looked at me like that, I got laid."

Castiel's blush was bright red and adorable. Dean slid off the barstool, letting his hand rest on the still-sitting Castiel's knee.

"That's a yes, by the way," Dean whispered, making his voice extra low.

His reward was getting to watch Cas's pupils blow up until they nearly swallowed the blue of his irises.

* * *

The route to Castiel's bedroom led them up the massive staircase (where Dean was informed the chandelier was carved entirely out of silver and those were diamond, not glass, crystals hanging from it) and away from the glittering sights and sounds of the party. Castiel led Dean down a huge, darkened hallway, and they got about halfway before Dean's desire to touch got to be too much to handle.

He reached out and intertwined their fingers, pulling Cas so that he turned towards Dean, placing his hand on Castiel's hip. There was a single, burning moment of panic and then Dean leaned in, moving his lips against Cas's. The other man responded immediately, mouth opening with the softest of sighs, engaging their tongues. He felt firm and lean pressed against Dean, and the feel of a warm body after so long alone made Dean's cock go from zero to sixty.

"Bedroom," Cas whispered, stuttering. "My bedroom, it's right down the hall…"

"Sure," Dean murmured, brushing their lips together. "Just wanted to feel you."

Cas's laugh was shaky. "Have you looked in the mirror? I wanted to tear your clothes off the second I first saw you."

"Then lead the way," Dean chuckled, giving Cas a fast, dirty kiss before pulling away and making an  _after you_  gesture.

Castiel surprised Dean by grabbing his hand, tugging him along the rest of the way until they reached their destination. Dean barely had time to register that they were in a bedroom that had no business being so massively elegant, before the door was shut behind him and he was crowded up against the wall.

They kissed again, heads tilting, searching for the deepest angle, tangling their tongues together until Dean was moaning and he was drawing the most addicting of whimpers out of Cas's throat. Their hands fumbled, jackets and shirts and ties thrown about with abandon, until Cas shoved a hand down Dean's pants and  _oh god_  it was hot, so hot, his hips bucking uncontrollably as Cas stroked him teasingly, still confined inside the cotton of his underwear and it was too much–

He seized Cas's wrist, stopping him. "Cas," he choked out. "You gotta… it's been a while, okay?"

Cas pulled back a little, and there must have been a window somewhere because moonlight was shining on his face, those blue eyes burning like an unnatural fire. "Same," he admitted. "Should we… move this to the bed?"

Dean nodded, at a loss for words. Cas gave him a squeeze that had his eyes rolling back into his head before withdrawing his hand, and they shed the last of their clothing before clambering onto the bed.

Cas rolled over onto his back just as Dean reached him, straddling the man's slim, jutting hips (Dean made a mental note to explore those later with his mouth) and leaning down to kiss him again. God, Cas's mouth was addictive, warm and wet, his tongue damn strong and taking no quarter. Dean wondered if he could come from kissing Cas alone.

 _Next time_ , he thought, filing it away.

A jolt of apprehension shot through him and he sat up, breathing hard. They hadn't even gotten to the main event and he was already thinking about the next time?

What the hell?

"Dean," Cas admonished, looking thoroughly debauched. He rolled his hips and Dean groaned, the hot feel of skin-on-skin effectively killing all rational thought.

He leaned back down, pressing every part of his body against Cas, shuddering at the overwhelming sensation. He kissed along the column of Cas's throat, moaning in pleasure when Cas's hands started to wander and Cas's mouth tugged at his earlobe.

"Please tell me you have supplies," Dean muttered, sucking at Cas's wonderfully defined collarbone.

"Nngh. Top drawer, bedside table," Cas responded, arching his back to rock against Dean.

Dean inserted his knee between Cas's splayed legs, letting the brunette rut against him as he fumbled his hand around in the aforementioned drawer. He procured both lube and a condom, grinning and waving them in triumph.

"You or me?" Dean asked, removing his knee and prompting a whine of loss from Cas. He kissed Castiel's chest in apology, smiling up at him. Cas's eyes were hooded and as dark as the night sky.

"Me," Castiel replied, his voice sliding down Dean's spine and making him shiver with heat. "I want you to fuck me."

"Oh God." Dean pressed his forehead to Cas's chest. "You can't just  _say_  stuff like that, Cas."

"Apparently, I can," Cas replied, grinning deviously. "C'mon, Dean. I don't want to be able to walk straight tomorrow."

"Son of a  _bitch_." Dean grabbed the lube, accidentally squeezing too hard and spilling it all over his hand. Cas laid there, legs spread wide, his body flushed and his hair all in disarray. Dean didn't think he'd ever seen anyone so beautiful.

Ensuring his fingers were properly coated, Dean settled himself between Cas's legs and slowly pushed a finger in. Cas hadn't been lying – he was tight, tighter than anyone Dean had ever been with. Dean gave himself a couple of seconds, letting Cas get adjusted to the feel of something inside of him before he started moving. He brought his other hand up to stroke Cas, to double the sensations, and Cas made a kind of choking, whining sound that had Dean leaking. He'd barely been touched and he felt ready to blow his load at any second. This couldn't be good for his health.

When he felt that Cas was relaxed enough he added a second finger and eventually a third, never speeding up his pace or the slow pull of his hand on Cas's dick. They were both sweating bullets and Cas was making the most delicious keening noises, grinding down onto Dean's fingers.

"Dean.  _Dean_. Come on, just… just…" Cas twisted his face, burying it into the pillow, his eyes slamming shut.

"Patience, sweetheart," Dean assured him, tearing open the condom and hurrying to get himself slicked up. He didn't need to work himself up at all, simply making sure the condom was on properly before placing his hands on the back of Cas's thighs and hiking them up, nudging against his entrance and then he was pushing in,  _fuck_  he was pushing in and it was hot and wet and so, so tight. He could fucking feel his eyes crossing at the sensations, Cas giving a rough groan that made his whole body shudder against Dean, clenching furiously around Dean's dick like he was hungry for it…

He prayed that Cas was ready because he had to move; he had to, rocking gently at first but quickly speeding up into proper thrusts, barely able to keep a rhythm. Cas clutched at him, words like  _please_  and  _oh_  and  _yes right there yes_  spilling from between those perfect lips, crying out Dean's name like it was a desperate prayer. Dean quickly found his own curses and swears joining in,  _fuck_  and  _shit_  and  _dammit Cas so pretty, so gorgeous like this_  punched out of him as the pleasure built in his gut, building like an impending tsunami.

"Cas… not gonna…" Dean fisted Cas's dick, stroking him fiercely, trying to make sure he took Cas with him.

"Close." Cas nodded his head frantically, practically babbling. "Dean!"

Castiel's entire body stiffened, his back bowing as stripes of come splattered about, painting both of their chests. Dean couldn't help himself; he came with a vicious shout, pumping violently and worrying for a horrible second that he was going to hurt Cas, but the dark-haired man just took it, ground down against him just as desperately and Dean was lost, lost, lost in white pleasure and burning blue eyes.

* * *

Dean awoke sometime in the middle of the night, grumbling as the warm, smooth body he was pressed against shifted away from him.

"Cas…" He groaned. "Wha' time izzit?"

"Shh." Dean felt warm lips press against his temple. He moved his head and caught them, turning an innocent gesture into something much dirtier. After a couple of minutes Cas pulled away with a soft laugh, his eyes shining even in the darkness.

"I just have to go to the bathroom, Dean. I'll be right back."

"Hhmph." Dean pouted, missing Cas's warmth and the feel of another body pressed against him. Cas had gotten their limbs thoroughly tangled as well; wrapping legs and arms around until it was hard to tell where Dean ended and Cas began. He was shocked at how much he missed it, even in his sleep-fuzzed state.

"Go back to sleep, Dean," Cas rebuked, but his tone was fond.

Dean snuggled back into the (awesomely soft) covers, letting sleep pull him back under its thrall.

He never saw the regretful look that Castiel gave him, eyes lingering on his peacefully sleeping form, before slipping out of the room and down the stairs.

* * *

When Dean next woke, it was to an empty bed.

Sunlight was streaming in through a massive window, spilling its golden light in incandescent pools across the room, but Dean didn't bother looking around the (undoubtedly elegant) space. He was a little too busy focusing on the fact that Castiel was nowhere to be seen.

What the fuck?

Dean slowly eased out of the bed, peering into the bathroom. There was no sign of Cas anywhere. Dean's clothes from the night before, however, were pressed and laid out neatly on a nearby chair.

Dressing quickly, Dean padded out of the room and down the stairs. The ballroom or whatever it was that had last night been filled with the crème de la crème of Gotham society was now empty. The slightest of movements echoed about the immense room, making Dean feel uneasy.

Until he got about halfway and smelled bacon, that is.

Following his nose, he made his way down another hallway until he'd reached the largest kitchen he'd ever seen. Now a room like this, he could get used to. He wondered if Cas would let him make some burgers on that oven range there sometime.

"Hey, Cas, I was beginning to worry you'd–"

The rest of his sentence died in the back of his throat when he saw that the person cooking was not Cas. It was, in fact, the barkeep from the night before. The guy was thin and wiry, with scraggly short blonde hair and an altogether British air about him. Dean knew the guy would have an accent before he'd even opened his mouth.

"Ah, you're awake," the barkeep said. "Master Novak isn't in this morning. He had an emergency down at the foundation."

"Nice of him to leave a note," Dean said, snagging a piece of bacon from the pile on the plate. "Is Anna around?" He knew that Anna had her own apartment in town but that didn't mean she hadn't slept over.

"I'm afraid not," the man replied. "Oh, by all means, help yourself," he said, his tone anything but friendly as Dean grabbed another piece of bacon.

"Don't mind if I do," Dean replied, putting a little extra sass into his voice.

There were a few minutes of silence while the other guy cooked and Dean felt increasingly uneasy.

"So you… you're the cook?" He ventured after the silence became too much.

The man snorted. "I'm the butler. Sixth generation to serve the Novaks." He said it with the same pride most men would have when referring to their six figure incomes.

Dean attempted to smile, but felt it came out more like a grimace. "Do you know when Cas'll be back?"

The butler made a kind of wincing motion with his face when Dean said Castiel's nickname. "I'm afraid I do not," he admitted. He sounded genuinely contrite. "If you're willing to wait…"

"No, it's okay," Dean cut him off. "I need to get into work anyhow." He glanced around, looking for a clock. "What time is it, anyway?"

The butler looked at his watch. "It's just after six a.m."

"Shit!" The expletive left Dean's lips before he could think. He had to be at the office by nine, and rush hour traffic was a nightmare. Sam was also scheduled to come over that morning with Ruby. Dean swallowed down a grimace at the thought of how that meeting would go.

Just then, his phone rang. Dean opened it with a snap. "Winchester," he barked, a little more harshly than was probably called for.

"Dean." It was Victor. "You got a special delivery."

"A what?" Dean turned away from the butler, frowning.

There was the sound of a scuffle, and then a different voice echoed over the line. "You're gonna want to get down here, brother," Benny drawled. "It's Nightshade."

Before Dean could reply, there was another scuffle and Victor came back on the phone. "Found her trussed up next to the signal. Looked about ready to scratch our eyes out. I'm telling you if looks could kill…"

"So Thursday dropped her off?"

"Who?"

Dean mentally cursed himself for his slip. "Seraph."

"Yeah. He turned the signal on, and nobody'd be bold enough to do that besides him. Except you, of course."

Dean could hear Benny and Victor arguing over something, and he rubbed his temples. "I'll be down there as soon as I can, okay?"

He glanced over at the butler, who was clearly listening in. Smarmy gossiping asshole.

Dean snapped the phone shut. "I have to go. Is my car…?"

"The Impala?" The butler grinned. "She's out front. Lovely ride, if I may say so myself."

"Keys?" Dean asked.

"Under the sun visor."

"Thanks." Dean grabbed one last piece of bacon and hurried out.

As he fired up the engine of his Baby, he couldn't help but glance back at the manor. He hadn't thought about it at the time, but now he could admit that he'd been looking forward to waking up next to Cas, to wrapping his arms around those slim hips and leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down that smooth, pale neck. He'd felt some scars along Cas's body last night, and had wanted to see them in the day, to trace them with his tongue. Maybe there'd even have been time for breakfast together.

Now, instead, he was leaving on an empty stomach, heading for morning traffic, with a bunch of paperwork and a meeting with his brother's girlfriend to look forward to.

Hard as he tried, Dean couldn't help but be a little pissed at Cas.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel had done many difficult things in his life. He had watched his parents die in front of him, had spent years of grueling training to reach top physical shape, and had to make choices between bad and worse on a daily basis.

So why was it that leaving Dean in bed was one of the hardest things he'd ever done?

He'd paused in the doorway, allowing himself one last look at the man, stretched out languidly on the bed like he belonged there. The moonlight had done wonders for Dean's skin, and it wasn't difficult to imagine that God had taken special care when crafting the fine muscles, the taught chin and full lips.

Castiel had practically torn himself away.

Now he was crouching on the edge of a rooftop, his massive wings tucked in. His entire family had been graced with this strange genetic defect, but fortunately found that they could meld them into their bodies when they wished. During the day, Castiel Novak simply had a strange tattoo that covered his arms and back. Only at night did he allow the wings to unfurl, their deep black-blue glory spreading out in the moonlight.

Anna's wings were the fiery hearts of stars, red and orange, purple and pink, brightest of blue where her wings met her back, and a sprinkling of tiny white dots like constellations scattered across. Anna was a nebula, burning bright and fierce, spreading herself out against the night sky, every color in fiery form as it burned, burned, burned. Castiel had to reign in a chuckle when he remembered the first time Charlie had seen Anna's wings. The hacker had stared, her jaw slack, for a good five minutes. When Anna had given Charlie permission to touch, she'd reached out with trembling fingers, combing through the wings like she'd just been shown God.

Michael's wings were almost blinding in their sheen. They were shining silver, with the barest hint of color like a glaze on a painting. No spots or other markings defiled their gleam, and when they caught the sunlight… oh how they reflected each color in the spectrum, all of them at once and yet none of them at the same time. It had been over twenty years since Michael had allowed his wings to unfurl; the last time Castiel had seen them had been when Lucifer had run away.

Lucifer… his wings truly were every color in existence. And, Castiel suspected, a few colors unseen to the human eye. It was simply impossible to tell what color they were, there were so many. Fixate upon a stripe of purple for an instant, and watch it morph into a deep red. Or, where you were certain there was a spot of green, there was now a burnt yellow hue. The colors shifted and changed, like a kind of landscape or ocean of paint, so pure and deep. It had made Castiel dizzy just to gaze upon them. He wondered where Lucifer was now--if he was all right, if he had found happiness.

Shaking off such melancholy thoughts, Castiel remembered Gabriel's wings. Gabriel reminded Castiel of the earth and sunlight, fresh air and life. His wings were always moving, twitching even when they held still, trembling in their eagerness to take flight. He knew that Gabriel would often spend his weekends flying in remote areas, flinging himself into the sky as he often had as a child. His wings could be described as golden, but that wouldn't be doing them justice. They were almost pure sunlight, with the shades of earth dancing within the folded feathers. It was like they refracted light, breaking it up into shining beams of glowing color. If any of them looked like a classical angel, it would be Gabriel, with his playful, shiny golden wings.

Raphael, on the other hand… Castiel almost snorted. Raphael had been adopted into the family when, during his mother's annual trip to Africa for philanthropy, she had discovered the child and seen he had the same defect as her husband and her children. She had taken Raphael home, and he had been a part of the family ever since. Raphael's wings held the deepest colors. It was like seeing things through a filter, or catching a glimpse of color while deep in the ocean. The colors played against each other like shadows upon the water, a visual symphony, layer upon layer of color mixing and melding. It had a kind of awful grace to it, powerful and beautiful all at once. If Raphael's wings had suddenly started making music every time they moved, Castiel would not have batted an eye.

Castiel's wings ruffled, and he sighed. He had wasted enough time in reminiscing. Not to mention such thoughts did nothing for his self-esteem. He had always known he had the least lovely of wings, with even his younger cousin outshining him, but dwelling on it didn't help matters.

Seeing movement, Castiel gave a satisfied growl and launched himself into the night. His stakeout was finally paying off.

* * *

The eco-terrorist known as Nightshade was practically prancing about the room when Castiel slipped in through a window. Her flaming hair was piled on top of her head, her lips and nails painted the color of blood. The villain was known for only wearing eco-friendly, biodegradable clothing, and tonight was no exception. She was sporting a ripped-up shirt that said  _The Devil Made Me Do It_  and a faux leather jacket. Her jeans looked painfully tight and… were those combat boots?

Having decided there were three places upon her person where she likely had concealed weapons, Castiel saw no sense in drawing things out. He glided down to land noiselessly behind her.

"Aba–"

You had to give the woman credit; she was fast. She swung out behind her with a roundhouse kick, forcing Castiel to duck. He grabbed her ankle, twisting her so that she landed on her back.

"Abaddon," Castiel repeated. "You are under arrest for the bombing of–"

He was again interrupted, this time by two massive vines grabbing him and dragging him into the air. Luckily they had seized him by the arms and not the wings, and he was able to successfully twist himself free. Drawing a small gas bomb out of his utility belt, he pressed the button and rolled out of the way, covering his mouth and nose.

The bomb went off, releasing an enormous cloud of weed killer into the air. Abaddon gave a pained scream as the material made her skin and eyes burn, her plants suffocating and withering. Castiel, not as affected thanks to the lack of plant chemicals in his body, made his way to her and handcuffed her. Abaddon let out a demonic screech of fury, her eyes darkening to almost black in her rage.

Castiel made a mental note to invest in some earplugs. Deciding to leave the recitation of her numorous crimes to the Gotham PD, he took off into the night, leaving the massive plants to die.

As he dropped her off next to the searchlight, turning it on to alert the police in the building, Castiel couldn't help but feel a small surge of satisfaction. It had taken him six months, but Nightshade was finally on her way to Arkham. He tried to ignore the twinge in his gut when he turned on the searchlight and realized that Dean Winchester wouldn't be there to greet him.

The twinge became hard to ignore when he realized that Dean was, in fact, still asleep in Castiel's bed.

Castiel pushed those thoughts out of his head. He'd dismissed such distracting thoughts before, and it frustrated him that Dean Winchester would not be banished from his mind so easily.

With a growl of frustration, Castiel took off again, ignoring Abaddon's curses. The night was not quite over yet.

* * *

Castiel didn't bother with the front or the back door. He simply let himself in through the roof, dropping down into the meticulously kept office from the air duct.

There was a sigh of great martyrdom from the man sitting at the desk. "You know, there is such a thing as knocking," The man noted in a tiredly ticked-off voice, his British accent unmistakable. He flicked an imaginary speck of dirt off his tailored black suit.

"Crowley," Castiel graveled.

The criminal kingpin known as The Dealmaker had retired from his more ambitious enterprises years ago, claiming to be a simple club owner. The Crossroads Club was certainly a haven for the costumed rogues of Gotham, but no specific illegal activity could be traced back to Crowley. Over the years Castiel had grudgingly started to come to Crowley for insider information, striking up a tentative alliance of sorts. It helped that, other than Bela Talbot (known to Gotham as the jewel thief Kitten), Crowley was the only rogue that would be locked up in Blackgate and not Arkham should he be caught.

The lack of insanity was wonderfully refreshing.

"Angel." Crowley smiled, spreading his arms wide. "What can I do you for?"

Castiel ignored the jibe, and the offered chair, as he always did. "I need information."

"And here I thought you just came for the good company," Crowley said sarcastically. "Well, you get nothing for nothing, feathers. Tell me what you need and I'll see what deal I can cook up."

It took a lot of effort for Castiel not to roll his eyes. "You've heard of the new vigilante in town? Calls herself–"

"The Interrogator, yes," Crowley nodded, his eyes gleaming. "I've heard her methods are much more… intense, shall we say, than yours."

Castiel grunted in response.

Crowley tapped his fingers together. "I might know a thing or two, but first I want to know what you've got for me."

And here was the part that Castiel didn't like. Crowley might have been out of the criminal business for his part, but he was quite the information broker. Needed a place to pawn off those stolen goods? Go to Crowley. Wanted to hire some good muscle? Crowley was the man. Wanted to know what places in Gotham were ripe for the picking? Crowley was in the know. And although Castiel knew that he could stop whatever criminal enterprises came as a result of his giving Crowley information on shipping plans and gala dinners, it still didn't sit well with him.

Castiel drew out from his utility belt a list and handed it wordlessly to Crowley. Crowley read over the information, occasionally making a small noise to himself, before nodding in apparent satisfaction.

"One moment," He said, holding up a finger. He then pressed a buzzer under his desk.

The door to the room opened and a woman walked in. She was a few years older than Castiel, with ginger hair pulled back into a perfectly coifed bun. She was wearing an expertly tailored powder-grey suit, and had a stern look about her. Castiel had to admit he was a little surprised. Crowley's previous secretaries (none of which had lasted more than a few months) had all been rather young and exceedingly attractive, whether they were male or female. This woman looked like she would be perfectly comfortable either at a board meeting or gouging someone's eyes out.

"Ah, Naomi." Crowley smiled, but there was something different in his eyes when he looked at her. "Angel, this is Naomi Garrison. She's an old friend from… where did we meet exactly?"

Naomi had a strained look that Castiel recognized. She was trying not to roll her eyes. Both she and Castiel knew perfectly well that the Dealmaker had one of the best memories this side of the Atlantic.

"Mesopotamia," Naomi replied, her tone clipped and even.

"Back in the days of our passionate youth," Crowley quipped.

Naomi looked rather like she might hit him, but Castiel noted the way her lips twitched.

"And Naomi, I'm sure you've heard of Gotham's self-appointed guardian, Seraph."

Castiel bowed slightly, the manners his parents and Alfred had instilled in him coming out even while wearing a mask.

"Naomi came back into town about… was it two weeks ago, darling?" Crowley asked.

The pet name was nothing out of the ordinary to Castiel, but judging by the flush on Naomi's neck, it held a lot more import than it usually did. Crowley called everyone  _sweetheart_  or  _darling_  and  _dear_ , but usually in a mocking tone. Castiel had a feeling that he didn't mean it that way at all this time.

Castiel gave Crowley a questioning look. It was nice to see the man getting together with someone who was actually his age for once, but by would Crowley bring his girlfriend in to see Castiel?

"Spent a lot of time in… was it the CIA?" Crowley went on, as nonchalant as you please.

And then it clicked.

Naomi had come back to Gotham two weeks ago.

Going by the ramrod-straight back and the quip about the CIA, Castiel surmised that she'd been trained in some strict military capacity. Going by the Interrogator's methods, she'd probably been a part of the intelligence branch of the Army or whatever faction it was.

Crowley's girlfriend was the Interrogator.

Castiel wanted to laugh at just how genuinely complicated the Dealmaker's life was. Crowley had always straddled the line but this took the cake. And, going by the way the two were looking at each other, it wasn't just for sex--although they'd probably both deny it.

Castiel wondered if braining himself on the wall would sooth the headache forming just above his left eye or if it would only result in a concussion.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Garrison," Castiel graveled.

"Same." Naomi gave a short nod. "I'm going to go change," she informed Crowley.

Castiel really, really didn't want to think about the emphasis she'd put on the word  _change_.

Naomi exited, Crowley leering after her, and Castiel's headache was starting to pound a little.

"You can run a background check, of course," Crowley said as soon as the door had closed behind her. "But I'd appreciate you  _not_  letting her know you got her name from me."

Castiel sighed. "I can't guarantee anything, Crowley," he warned. Crowley's love life was a small price to pay for peace in Gotham.

Crowley leveled him with a menacing glare that reminded Castiel of the man's heyday as a crime lord. "She's not the flavor of the month, Angel," The Dealmaker warned him.

For a moment, Castiel thought he saw something vulnerable in Crowley's eyes. He couldn't be sure, but he thought it was genuine affection.

But while he wished Crowley well in his relationship, Castiel had a duty.

"She also nearly kills the criminals she catches," Castiel reminded him.

"Don't I know it." Crowley gave a delighted shiver. Castiel wondered if inducing selective retrograde amnesia would be worth the risk.

"If she's caught, she will go to Blackgate, unless evidence suggests mental imbalance," Castiel noted.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Yes. Conjugal visits are terribly romantic," he sneered. "Do what you have to do, Angel, but be warned--you don't want her as an enemy. Learned that the hard way."

Castiel said nothing to that. This conversation was clearly over.

As he took off from the rooftop of the Crossroads Club, he checked the time. It was past four in the morning. Silently cursing, Castiel headed back to the manor. He knew Dean had to be up early, but if he hurried with the logs and his morning workout…

Castiel inwardly berated himself. Since when had one man become more important than his mission? No. Castiel would be as meticulous as usual with filling out the logs, and he'd make sure Anna had done the same; she tended to skimp when she thought she could get away with it. Then he'd do his usual two-hour workout. Then, and only then, would he give into the temptation to slip back into bed with Dean, wrap himself around the man and forget the outside world.

The thought made heat pool in his gut, and Castiel shook his head. He was truly done for.

* * *

When Castiel emerged from the secret passage behind the grandfather clock, he found one severely pissed-off butler glaring at him from the doorway.

Castiel didn't even bother to ask what he'd done this time. Balthazar would tell him.

Sure enough…

"Your boy-toy left about ten minutes ago," Balthazar announced, following Castiel into the breakfast nook (which was the size of most dining rooms).

"He's not my boy-toy," Castiel all but snarled. He was not going to hear Dean being spoken of in such a fashion.

"He certainly seems to think so, after waking up to find you gone," Balthazar noted. "Honestly, Castiel. I'd expect something like this from Gabriel…"

Castiel whirled around, clenching his jaw. "Gabriel?" He demanded. "Gabriel takes home two new girls every night, Baz."

"Ever since Kali dumped him, anyway," Anna noted. She was curled up in a corner, nibbling on some toast as she read the newspaper.

Castiel mentally swore. Of course his cousin had to be there to witness this.

"You couldn't convince him to stay?" He asked.

Balthazar shrugged. "He's the Commissioner, Castiel. He has things to do, a department to run. And…" Here Balthazar's grin turned mischievous, "He got a call about a certain redheaded eco-terrorist tied up next to the wing signal on top of headquarters."

Castiel sat down heavily in a chair. He had literally just cock-blocked himself. What was his life?

"You gave him a good excuse at least," he asked.

Balthazar snorted. "Don't you give me those puppy eyes, Castiel Novak. And yes. What do you take me for? I said you were unexpectedly called into work; an emergency at the Foundation."

Castiel allowed some of the tension to bleed out of his shoulders. At least Dean didn't think he was a total cad.

Still…

"What's on the schedule for today?" Castiel asked.

Balthazar pushed an iPad towards Castiel. Castiel hated these things, but such technology had to be endured.

"You have some meetings for the Foundation, but not until later this afternoon. There's nothing before lunch," Balthazar explained.

Castiel stood up.

"Hey Castiel, you'd better call that dick Zachariah Adler. Novak Enterprises just released some more war–-Castiel?" Anna lifted her head and watched, with a shocked Balthazar, as Castiel practically ran out the door and up the stairs. He had to change quickly; hopefully he could beat the morning rush hour into the city.

Back in the breakfast nook, Balthazar and Anna exchanged weary  _what are you going to do_  looks.

"He certainly seemed affected by Master Winchester," Balthazar noted.

Anna snorted. "He'd better be. I'm gay and I appreciate Dean's looks."

Balthazar gave her a sidelong glance. "You don't think…?"

"With Castiel?" Anna sighed, setting aside the paper. "I hope, Baz. I really do."

They both jumped as they heard the sound of a car roaring to life and peeling out of the driveway.

* * *

He'd thought he'd prepared himself, but when the door was yanked open and he was greeted with the Adonis that was Dean Winchester, Castiel could barely remember his own name never mind the reason he'd stopped by.

"Son of a bitch," Dean breathed.

Castiel held up the box. "I brought pie."

Dean's eyes flitted to the box in Castiel's hands, then back up to his face. Castiel wasn't sure what Dean was looking for or how long they spent staring at one another, but it was long enough to get lost in cataloguing the man's gorgeous face.

"Dean? Who's there?" A booming voice called out from behind.

Dean made a face, but Castiel suspected it wasn't directed at him.

"C'mon in," Dean said, stepping back to allow Castiel to enter.

The apartment was small and rather bare, but clean. There was a couch and a large cushioned easy chair, with a television set and a low coffee table. A couple of books were piled on top of it; Castiel saw  _Slaughterhouse Five_  and  _The Brothers Karamazov_  among the sports magazines. The place wasn't bad but it didn't have the feel of being lived-in. It felt like stepping into a kind of odd hotel room or even a form of limbo, like this was only a temporary abode. It was a house, but not a home.

When Castiel had finished his quick inspection, he turned his eyes to the room's other occupants. Lounging on the sofa was a petite brunette, her eyes deep and sparkling with a naughty smile on her lips. Standing beside Dean and pretty much taking up the entire room was the six foot four Samuel Winchester, star prosecutor for the D.A.'s office. It had been over two years since Castiel had seen him last, and even then it had been when Sam was half-dead and gassed up with toxins, and it was nice to see how the man had filled out. Once a gangly pile of limbs, Sam Winchester was now confident and assured, an easy smile on his face and a relaxed air that put everyone else at ease.

He nearly jumped a mile when he felt Dean lay a hand on his shoulder. It was a casual gesture, one that Castiel hadn't expected but immediately enjoyed. He had to force himself not to lean into the touch.

"Sammy, this is my…" Dean made a rather odd noise in the back of his throat. "This is Castiel. He's Anna's older cousin."

"I've heard of him." Sam nodded.

"Cas, this is my brother Sam, and his…" Dean paused. It was hard for Castiel to decipher, but if he had to say he'd declare it to be a mix of annoyance, anxiety and confusion. "His girlfriend, Ruby."

Castiel nodded politely. "It's nice to meet you. Raphael has told me of the good work you do in the courts."

Sam shook his hand, grinning widely. "Nice to meet you, too. I've always been a fan of the Foundation."

Ruby stood up, her body moving sinuously. Castiel shook her hand as well, and exchanged some polite words.

"It was nice officially meeting you, Dean," Ruby said. "I've heard so much about you." Her grin was positively snide.

"We'll see you later, Dean. Lunch tomorrow?" Sam asked his brother.

"Yeah." Dean nodded. "As long as you promise to buy actual food and none of that rabbit crap."

"It's called living past the age of fifty, Dean," Sam quipped with a roll of his eyes. "You should try it."

Ruby gave a tinkling laugh that somehow grated Castiel the wrong way. He didn't have any supernatural abilities other than his wings, but he'd learned how to hone his natural skills, including his survival instincts. Right now, they were telling him that something was off about this woman.

He'd have to look into it later. Just to be on the safe side.

Goodbyes were exchanged, the brothers gave each other a quick, crushing hug, and then Sam and Ruby were out the door.

And it was just Dean and Castiel.

It was suddenly quite difficult to breathe.

Castiel could only stare, feeling the full force of Dean's gaze leveled at him. Dean wasn't exactly glaring, but the look he was giving wasn't altogether pleased.

The silence stretched like a thin rubber band. When Dean spoke, it sounded like a whip crack through the quiet.

"Nice of you to leave a note." Dean's voice was carefully measured.

Castiel winced. He hadn't thought of that. "I'm afraid the idea didn't occur to me."

Dean opened his mouth, perhaps to rebuke Castiel further, but then he closed it. Castiel, at a loss, held the pie aloft again.

"Balthazar made it," he offered. "It's cherry."

"Is Balthazar the butler?" Dean asked.

Castiel nodded.

Dean looked torn between throwing Castiel out and sitting down with him. Not that Castiel could blame him. This was, quite literally, his first attempt at a relationship and already he was messing it up. This was why he'd avoided such things until last night. Aside from being incredibly socially awkward, he was hopeless at reading people. It was actually shocking him that he was so far able to judge Dean's expressions with ease.

And, of course, there was the unavoidable truth of his nighttime activities. At some point, it would have to be either the mission or romance. He couldn't have both.

So why, exactly, was he letting himself pursue Dean like this? It would have been better to let Dean alone, to have him think Castiel a callous one-night-stand. But for some reason Castiel couldn't live with the idea of Dean thinking badly of him.

Speaking of Dean, the man was standing there as if waiting for an explanation. Which, Castiel supposed, was owed him.

"Dean, I…" Castiel took a deep breath. He'd learned long ago that when telling a lie, it was good to mix in some truth to lend it weight. "I was a virgin until last night."

Dean looked absolutely floored.

Castiel gestured helplessly. "I've never had opportunity or really desire before, and when I realized I'd gone and had a one-night-stand, I panicked. And then I realized… I didn't want you to be a one-night-stand." He glanced up at Dean, praying that the other man agreed with him. He hadn't felt such a rush of fearful adrenaline since his first night prowl.

To his relief, Dean looked shocked and a little guilty. "So that's why…" Dean swallowed. "I mean, damn it Cas, you should've told me. I assumed–-it's just, hell, you were fucking fantastic. I thought you must've…" Dean cleared his throat, shaking his head. "You want to, uh, sit down?"

Castiel nodded, seating himself next to Dean on the worn but surprisingly comfortable couch. Dean passed a hand over his face, apparently searching for words. Castiel wasn't sure what to say himself. Should he admit that he wanted to see more of Dean, to spend time with him every day? That he was drawn to the other man in a way that he couldn't explain and, quite frankly, scared him?

"Geez, Cas." Dean gave a kind of embarrassed chuckle. "Next time just say something, okay?" He flashed Castiel a sheepish grin. "Not gonna lie, I used to have quite the reputation. I deserved it, too. But after the Pit I just…" He shrugged. "I couldn't let anyone in like that. Then I meet you and--look, what I'm saying is let's see where this takes us, okay? I want to try that."

Castiel nodded. "I would like that," he replied.

Something about what he said or the way he said it must have been infinitely amusing to Dean, because the man burst out into relieved laughter. "C'mon, Cas," he said, smiling in that devastating way of his. "Let's see how good this pie that your butler made is."

"He prefers to go by Balthazar, and not his title," Castiel pointed out.

"Yeah." Dean's grin widened. "So, pie?"

"Like a dog with a bone," Castiel muttered, but he smiled as Dean got out forks and some plates.

By the time the pie was demolished it had been an hour and a half, and it wasn't until an hour afterwards that Cas thought to look at the clock. He'd just spent over two hours talking with Dean, about everything from Novak Foundation to the chances of the Gotham Rogues making it to the Superbowl. Dean interrupted his talk about how baseball was a true American sport and followed Castiel's eyes to the clock.

"Got somewhere to be?" Dean asked.

"Unfortunately," Castiel admitted. "I am about an hour late for work."

Dean looked apologetic. "Damn Cas. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Castiel waved it off as he stood. "The benefits of being the CEO--you get to call your own hours. I'll apologize to Daphne when I get in."

"Daphne?"

"My secretary." Castiel grimaced. "I used to take her as my date on social occasions until I heard people speculating that we were married. She's nice enough, and is ten times more organized than I could ever hope to be."

Dean nodded, watching as Castiel got his trenchcoat and tried to fix his tie again. He heard a deep chuckle and before he knew it was being spun, deft hands fixing the tie, brushing against the warm skin of Castiel's neck as they did so.

"You're gonna have to learn how to do this yourself some day," Dean noted. "Anna and your butler won't always be there to fix 'em for you."

"I guess I'll just have to rely on you, then," Castiel said, speaking before he could derail that train of thought.

Dean just chuckled again, sliding one hand down to grip the end of the tie and pull Castiel into him, sealing their lips together and sucking gently on Cas's tongue. Castiel brought his hands up to grip Dean's shoulders, pressing their bodies together and feeling Dean's answering shudder.

"Dinner, my place, tonight," Cas found himself saying as they broke apart momentarily for air.

Dean didn't answer right away, his tongue otherwise occupied, but when they next separated with a lewd  _slurp_ , he grinned. His green eyes looked a little dazed, and Castiel felt a surge of pride.  _He'd_  done that to Dean.

"Yeah," Dean rasped. He cleared his throat. "What time?"

"How does seven sound?" Castiel asked. That should be early enough to eat and spend some time together afterwards, without starting his patrol late.

"Sounds good."

Then they were kissing again, and again, and again, until Dean was against the wall and riding Castiel's knee, and Castiel really, really needed to leave or his CFO Hester was going to tear him a new one. Of course, that was if she didn't first take it out on the temps Inias and Rachel.

He pulled back, resting their foreheads together. "I really do have to go, Dean."

"We'll call this an IOU, then?" Dean grinned cheekily.

Castiel grinned, unable to help himself. With Dean he felt… relaxed. Free and open for the first time years, if not forever.

"Seven o'clock," he reminded, backing away.

"You want a dozen roses? Long-stemmed?" Dean teased.

Castiel shook his head, refusing to play into Dean's distraction techniques. "Just you," he informed him.

Dean's pleasantly shocked face was the last thing he saw before leaving the apartment, and not even Hester's outraged ten-minute tirade could make him forget it.

* * *

Dean shuffled from foot to foot nervously as he waited for the door to open. He never did the come over for dinner thing, or even the picking up for a date thing. He did hookups in bars and parties and, well, basically anywhere. Sam was the romantic one, the guy who'd saved up his money for four months to rent a limo for his prom date with Amy Pond, the guy's first love. They'd dated for all four years of high school and had only broken it off when they'd realized their lives were going in different directions. And God, the things Sam had planned for Jess…

The only real relationship Dean had ever had consisted of two weeks with one Cassie Robinson over the summer after his senior year. That… hadn't ended well.

So this whole thing was completely new and completely terrifying.

Before he could let his nerves get the best of him, the butler, Balthazar, opened the door.

"Hey, Jeeves." Dean smirked.

"Balthazar," the man corrected lazily. "Come in. Castiel is expecting you."

He examined Dean critically as he opened the door further, and Dean squirmed self-consciously. He'd come here straight from work and had divested himself of his button-down shirt and tie, leaving him in jeans and a dark grey-blue t-shirt. He'd thought it was perfectly adequate, but under Balthazar's judging gaze he suddenly wasn't so sure.

"Dean?"

Castiel stepped into the hall, and Dean was relieved to see Cas was wearing a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans. Very nice, form-fitting jeans, it was worth adding. They cupped Cas in all the right places.

Seeing Cas and his welcoming smile, adorable and damnably sexy all at once, lifted the weight off of Dean's shoulders.

"Hey there." Dean felt himself smile back at Cas, the expression easy and casual.

"I'll just leave you to alone to your eye-fucking, then?" Balthazar asked, his tone ever so polite. Before Dean could recover his shock or Cas could do more than eye-roll, Balthazar had slipped away with a  _pardon me, Master Novak_.

There was a moment of painful embarrassment. Dean rubbed the back of his neck, feeling how flushed it was. He didn't eye-fuck Cas. He just… appreciated the guy's looks. Especially those pretty blue eyes and the full mouth that hid a very wicked tongue…

"You'll have to forgive Balthazar, I'm afraid," Cas said. "He's rather…"

"Sassy?" Dean offered.

Cas laughed. "I guess you could say that."

"I got it from your cousin Anna," Dean explained.

Cas shook his head. "Anna… I don't know what I'd do without her, or Balthazar, but the two of them are going to be the death of me."

Dean hummed, unsure of what to say, and decided to give into his impulse to cross the hall to stand in front of Cas. That constant pull, like gravitational force, kept drawing Dean in despite himself.

When he finally stopped he was barely an inch away, their breaths mingling and loud in the suddenly silent foyer.

"Hey," Dean said again, softly.

Cas's eyes zeroed in on Dean's lips, and Dean felt a rush of heat go to his groin, pooling low and making his mouth water. He really wanted to taste Cas again.

"Dean."

Dean looked up, saw those perfect, fathomless blue eyes, and felt like he was tipping over the edge and falling into them, losing all sense of up and down. He needed to step back, to get his bearings. This felt right and natural in a way he hadn't known was possible, and it was scaring the shit out of him because he'd known the guy for a day.

But then Cas was kissing him, tasting of hesitance and anxiousness, his fingers twisting into the fabric of Dean's shirt and Dean thought that maybe, just maybe, Cas was just as confused about this as Dean was.

Somehow they ended up in a different room, on a couch, Cas underneath him, and they really needed to learn how to interact without tearing each other's clothes off. It was possibly the most difficult thing he'd ever had to do, but Dean pulled away. Cas's chest was heaving, his eyes darkened, but he didn't seem completely gone just yet.

"We should stop," Dean panted. He could pretty much guarantee it was the first time he'd ever said that.

Cas tilted his head to the side in an oddly familiar gesture, that searching and confused look on his face again.

"I mean we should…" Dean chuckled, nervous. Cas had the uncanny ability to make him feel like he was an inexperienced fourteen-year-old all over again. "We should probably get to know each other a bit more. Unless, you know, you're just in this for…"

He couldn't finish the sentence. Whatever this was between him and Cas, Dean realized he didn't want it to just be the physical.

Castiel nodded. "You're correct." He sat up, twisting out from underneath Dean. "As I said, the more intimate aspects of relationships are foreign to me."

Apparently Dean had developed some kind of intelligence kink, because hearing Castiel's formal tone and long words was doing a swift number on him. Dean leaned back on the couch, grinning lazily. "Where should we start?"

Cas raised and lowered one shoulder, looking lost. "Family, I suppose?"

Dean nodded, patting the cushion next to him. Cas lay down between Dean's splayed legs, his back to Dean's chest, his head resting on Dean's shoulder. Dean dug into his pocket, yanking out his wallet and retrieving the pictures carefully folded inside. The first was faded around the edges from being handled for so many years, a black and white portrait of a lovely blonde woman, her smile lighting up her entire face.

"This is my mom." Dean's voice was thick, and he cleared it. "Her name was Mary."

He felt Cas nod, and saw him reach out to run a finger over the photograph. "She is very lovely," Cas commented.

Dean nodded. Mary Winchester had been a picture of beauty, her sweet, loving nature evident in her face.

"You look like her," Cas said, his voice casual.

"Yeah?" Dean grinned. It was one of the best compliments he'd ever received. Despite only getting to know his mother for four years, some days he missed Mary like there was a gaping hole in his chest. Sometimes he felt closer to her than John, and his father had raised him up until high school.

Cas nuzzled into Dean's neck, and Dean felt his grin growing. Cas was a total cuddler, and Dean found he didn't mind in the slightest.

Dean showed him the second photograph, this one taken just before Dean had been taken to the Pit. It was the entire Roadhouse gang, Bobby included. It had been the night of Charlie's birthday, and ironically she'd been the one to take the picture, using the high-resolution Nikon she'd gotten as a gift, insisting that they take a group photo despite the protests.

As he started to explain this to Cas, he felt the warmth in his chest spread throughout the rest of his body.

He realized, with a start, that he could get used to this.

"This…" Dean tapped the photo. "Is Benny. Met him back when I was doing undercover work. Saved my ass a couple of times, and I saved his once."

Cas, knowing there was more to the story, waited. Dean's loyalty to those he loved ran deep, and he could practically see as Dean weighed each sentence on his tongue, testing his need to share his world and his desire to stand by his friends.

"We were undercover with Dr. Chill's gang," Dean started.

"He is the one who can only survive in subzero temperatures?" Cas asked.

"Yeah," Dean answered. "The guy drinks blood, too. His followers call him Alpha. I gotta tell you, he's a nasty piece of goods. Glad we put him away.

"So we're working the case, and Benny got in deep with Andrea," Dean explained. "Beautiful girl but ran with Chill's gang. Benny fell head over heels and… well, Benny's a levelheaded guy, but he was damn stupid on this one. He offered to get her out of the life she was leading. She said yes and…" Dean took a deep breath. "I'd like to think that she loved him too. Sure seemed like it. But someone found out and let's just say I'm lucky I managed to yank his ass out without losing my own."

"And Andrea?" Cas couldn't help but ask.

Dean shook his head. "Died in the attack. I haven't seen Benny look at another woman since."

Cas nodded. "Not even this one?" He pointed at the small blonde.

Dean burst into laughter. "That's Jo, Ellen's daughter." He pointed at Ellen, a no-nonsense woman standing on the back left. "Ellen pretty much raised Sammy and me along with Jo. If Jo finds out I told you this she'll kill me, but she and this guy," Dean tapped the face of an intimidating-looking African-American. "Victor, have been dancing around each other ever since she joined the force. Against Ellen's will, of course." Dean grinned. "That was one hell of a fight."

It had ended with Sam and Bobby on Jo's side of the argument, and Dean on Ellen's, and a good few weeks of Ellen not speaking to any of them once Jo had joined the Police Academy.

"Why didn't she want Jo to become a detective?" Cas asked.

"Her dad Bill was my dad's partner, served alongside Bobby," Dean explained. "The three of them were inseparable since the academy. After my mom died my dad…" Dean hated to admit it, but John had lost his grip on things. "He went to the deep end. Ended up getting Bill killed, and himself a few months later."

"Your mother died in a fire," Castiel said, looking confused.

"Yeah. An arson fire," Dean explained. "My dad was determined to find the perp who'd set the blaze. But anyway," He moved on, desperate not to dwell on it. "Ellen didn't want to see Jo go the same way as Bill. Took a good year for them to speak to each other again."

"And how does Ellen feel about Victor?" Castiel asked, tilting his head.

Dean chuckled. "She feels the same way the rest of us do: she wants them to get their heads out of their asses and get on with it."

Castiel's lips twitched into that half-smile that Dean adored. He hadn't gotten a full-blown grin out of Cas yet, but the lip-twitches were becoming a lot more frequent.

"There's Anna," Cas said, tapping Anna's frozen, smiling face. "She often mentions you all, but she's never described any of you to me. Except for you, Dean."

"Really? Am I just that special?" Dean grinned.

"No. You were the one she was determined to set me up with." Cas tried to sound annoyed, but the softening of his eyes gave it away.

"She's a piece of work," Dean admitted. "But we love her anyway."

Going by the quirk of his lips, Castiel agreed.

"I think she might be easier to deal with if she would simply get over her fears and ask Charlie out."

Dean nearly choked on his own spit. He knew Charlie was into girls, and he and Anna had been each other's go-to beards for a couple years now, but…

"Anna and Charlie know each other?"

If Jo was the tiny, female version of Dean, then Charlie was the LARPing version of Sam. She was the younger sister Dean had never wanted, but once she'd waltzed into their lives there was no getting rid of her. And, honestly, Dean didn't want to. Charlie was a total geek who could quote Lord of the Rings back to front and was hopeless at social gatherings, and Dean wouldn't have her any other way.

But… how did she know Anna? Charlie wasn't really familiar with any of the Roadhouse crew, save for Jo, Ellen and Bobby.

Castiel frowned. "You were not aware of their acquaintance?" He seemed genuinely puzzled.

For that matter, how did Cas know Charlie?

"Charlie and I met online," Cas explained. "I had some bugs in my computer system and was trying to deal with it on my own. Charlie helped fix it up. We started chatting, arranged to have lunch, and became friends. Anna met her through me, and they've been refusing to be the one to ask the other out ever since."

Dean chuckled. That sounded like his redheads, all right. "Why is it that people are so stubborn? Look at Bobby and Ellen." He pointed them out again in the picture. "Bobby's been pining after her for years, and after Ellen got over Bill it didn't take her long to look at her best friend in a new way. They're both just waiting for the other to make a move."

Castiel's lips twitched into what actually might have been an actual smile. "It's good that's not our problem," He noted dryly.

Dean snorted. Yeah. They were in bed together within an hour of meeting each other. Dancing around things was definitely not their issue.

"If you like Charlie, you'll like Ash. Well, not like him, but… put up with him," Dean amended. "He's her gaming buddy and one of our hacker guys over at GCD. Poor kid's been stressed lately–-somebody named Pythia is getting to information before he is."

Cas's body tensed against him for a moment before relaxing again. Dean pretended not to notice. "And Ash is not likeable?" He inquired.

"He's likeable, I guess," Dean admitted. "He's just a hyperactive fly constantly buzzing around your ear."

"You should not meet my brother Gabriel," Castiel intoned seriously.

Dean laughed. "I've met him all right. According to Sam he spends half of his time eating candy and the other half of the time plotting how to make my brother's life ten times more difficult."

"Yes… Gabriel is a defense attorney and Sam is a prosecutor," Castiel noted aloud. "I can see how that would be difficult."

Dean nodded. "At least Sam can joke about things like that now."

"Joke about what, exactly?" Castiel asked.

The words flew out before Dean could stop them. "People going out of their way to make his life miserable, showing an unhealthy interest in him… that sort of thing."

Castiel frowned. "Why would that be difficult for him?"

Dean swallowed. He'd forgotten that Cas didn't know. He felt so comfortable about Cas, dammit, like there had been an empty space in Dean's life just waiting for Castiel to step in and fill it, and now that Dean had him it was hard to remember that Cas hadn't always been there.

"Sam… he, uh…" Dean cleared his throat. "You've heard of Evil Eye, right?"

"He's the rogue with the theme of fear." Castiel offered tentatively.

Dean nodded. "A few years back, Sammy… he was coming back from Stanford on winter break, brought his girl Jess with him. They were both seniors. Sam – he's always been a romantic. Dated the same girl all through high school, y'know? He met Jess at freshman orientation and… yeah. Told me he had passed the LSAT test, he was all set to go to law school, so he was gonna propose to Jess on Christmas Eve. Couple days before he uh… well, Evil Eye got him, and Jess. Seraph rescued them but it was too late for Jess. She died on the way to the hospital."

Castiel sat quietly, his face open and patient. It was soothing, not to hear those hollow words of sympathy, to sit there as someone tried to make it better. Cas simply waited, letting Dean take his own time.

"We thought it was over after that, but Evil Eye… he fixated on Sam. Wouldn't let him alone. About a year later he got Sam's new girlfriend Madison – barely started dating – and drove her crazy with fear gas. She attacked Sam and he…" Dean swallowed, remembering Sammy's face when Dean found him. Tears streaming down his face, the dead brunette in his arms, gun clattering to the floor where it had slipped from his trembling fingers.

"He had to kill her," Dean finished.

He felt Cas's hand cover his own, and he intertwined their fingers.

"I'd go through the Pit all over again if it meant he didn't have to deal with that," he admitted. And he would. He'd have done anything to take away Sam's pain and guilt, especially when they'd realized Evil Eye was trying to make Sam his apprentice. No matter what anyone said or did, Sam remained convinced that Jess and Madison were his fault.

"Maybe Ruby is good for him, then," Castiel suggested.

Dean laughed, but it was harsh. "You've met her, Cas."

"That I have," Cas conceded. "But the truth is she's Sam's first real relationship since Evil Eye was put in Arkham. Doesn't that show that he's moving on? That he's willing to accept love back into his life, and possibly even entertain the notion that the previous incidents were not his fault?"

"I love it when you use all those long words," Dean teased, his smile relaxing a little.

Cas bumped their noses together, his lips quirking upwards. "The right person can make us forget all of our troubles," he intoned with solemnity.

Dean chuckled, a little breathless. His chest was tight with unspoken emotions, and he swallowed. He wanted so badly to spill his guts right that moment, but his fears held him back. This felt so right, so simple, that a part of him was terrified that something was going to come along and fuck it up. Maybe that something would be him.

As usual, retreating into humor seemed the best escape. "As if you've got troubles," he teased.

Castiel pulled back, and Dean knew he'd said the wrong thing. There was something in his eyes, something fathomless and deeply sad, and Dean's heart gave a painful twinge.

"I'm… Cas, that was…" He was not good at the apologizing thing. "I shouldn't have…"

Cas leaned forwards and pressed his lips to Dean's. "I understand," he murmured, his voice soft and low, before drawing back so that Dean could see his eyes. That dark, fearful look was gone, replaced by the usual bright blue, but Dean knew what he had seen. He wasn't the only one with demons.

"My parents' death was many years ago…" Cas sighed. "But the effects are still felt in my family. Lucifer fled to God knows where, and Michael, being eighteen, moved out of the house and started pursuing politics. He had no time for family anymore. Gabriel was a troublemaker, running around until he finally settled down in college. Balthazar's father Alfred raised Anna and me.

"I don't suppose it helped that it was my fault they died."

That sent a jolt through Dean. The way Cas said it, so dull and dry, a fact that had long ago been accepted…

"You were  _ten_ ," Dean pointed out. "How the hell was it your fault?"

"How is your mother's death your fault?" Cas countered.

Dean felt as though the rug had been whipped out from under him. "I was there. I should have gotten her out. I should have saved her."

"At least you didn't start the fire," Cas said, his voice dark and bitter. "My parents had a lot of responsibilities, between my father's job as a doctor and handling Novak Enterprises and my mother's philanthropy, but once a month they would take each of us out on a date; just one of us, with them, as a way to connect with their children. It was my night, and I wanted to see an opera."

"What opera?" Dean couldn't stop himself from asking.

Castiel looked embarrassed. "Faust," he admitted.

Dean nudged Cas's shoulder playfully. "That's the one about the guy who sells his soul, right?"

Cas nodded, his blush fading a little. "Michael had chosen the opera last time, and had said it would be too scary for me. I wanted to prove him wrong, so that's what I chose. Sure enough, I got scared and asked my parents if we could leave. My father took us out a side door because it was a shortcut to the car, and my mother said we could go get ice cream instead." His brow furrowed for a moment. "That was the last thing she said to me."

Dean's throat felt tight.

"You've heard the rest," Castiel stated.

"I want to hear it from you," Dean replied. "Not if… I mean, only if you're comfortable. But you were there, Cas. I don't want to know what happened to the Novaks. I want to know what happened to my boyfriend's parents."

A ghost of a smile flitted across Cas's features, and Dean knew he'd said the right thing for once. Again, he was amazed at how easy things were with Castiel. It should have eased his fear, but it only made it worse.

"A man stepped out of the shadows. It was rather… dramatic, I suppose, but at the time it didn't matter. He asked for money, and my father gave him all the cash he had. But then the man asked for my mother's pearls." Cas swallowed. "Those were from my father-an anniversary present. He'd given them to her just last week. He'd taken me to the shop to help pick them out… me, and none of my brothers. It had made me feel special.

"My father tried to talk him down, but the man insisted, pointing the gun at my mother. My father stepped in front to protect her, and the gun… it just went off. I think an itchy trigger finger. The man's whole body was shaking."

Cas himself was shaking, ever so slightly, even though his tone was still dull and even. Dean shifted, pulling Cas against his chest so that he was lying with Cas between his legs, Cas's hair brushing at his jaw. Cas visibly relaxed, his body sinking into Dean's.

"My mother screamed and rushed forward and the gun went off again," Castiel continued. "The man ran, and I… I was left with two dead parents."

The silence stretched on after that, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Cas rested his head on Dean's shoulder, his breath sliding over the skin of Dean's neck. Dean kept his arms looped around Castiel's chest, his hold loose.

"I guess we've both got our demons," he observed.

Cas snorted against his neck. "You could say that."

They lay there, like that, for a long time, until Balthazar cleared his throat and announced that if they wanted to atrophy they were more than welcome but otherwise dinner would be served in fifteen minutes.


	5. Chapter 5

"…and the McNamara case is scheduled for nine a.m. next Wednesday, so you'll want to meet with Molly at least once again before that," Ruby went on. "The defense will try to use her amnesia against her."

Sam nodded, only half-listening. It was always hard to concentrate with Ruby around. Ever since she'd first breezed into his office explaining why she'd be the perfect assistant, he could hardly take his eyes off of her.

Ruby must have noticed how he was staring, because she paused. "What?" She asked, the corners of her lips quirking upwards.

"Nothing." Sam smiled. "You just look beautiful."

Ruby laughed, walking around the desk to perch on his lap. Such fraternization was frowned upon, but for once Sam didn't care about the rules. He never did where Ruby was concerned.

"I'd have to be, to land a man like you," Ruby informed him, her arms winding around his neck. She brushed their noses together, and Sam felt his grin growing.

"Have I mentioned that I love you lately?" He asked.

Ruby put on a thoughtful face. "Not since this morning, no," she teased.

"Well, then." Sam kissed her. "I love you."

"I love you too," she said, slipping out of his arms. "But you need to call Molly and I need to file the paperwork on the Cranston case."

She turned to go, and then stopped. "And no ogling my ass. I can tell when you do that."

"I'm not," Sam replied, definitely eyeing it.

Ruby laughed. "Get to work!" She admonished, and purposefully closed the door that connected their offices.

* * *

He had reached a decision.

Sam smiled at Jake as he went past, not bothering to ask if the assistant's boss was available. He knew that technically he should share this news first with Dean, but he needed some sound advice, and he had no better sounding board then his best workplace friend.

No sooner had he closed the door to the office behind him than he announced,

"I'm going to propose to Ruby."

Prosecutor Ava Wilson promptly did a spit-take to rival any screwball comedy. "Excuse me?" She asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Are you out of your  _mind_ , Winchester?"

"What?" Sam frowned. "Says the woman who's getting married in eight weeks?"

"To the man who met his girlfriend a month ago, yeah!" Ava replied, taking a large gulp of her coffee, as if seeking strength from the caffeine. "Isn't there a one-year rule or something?"

"We wouldn't get married right way," Sam argued. "There's a lot of planning to do."

Ava leveled him with a piercing stare. Although the petite woman was bubbly and excitable, she was also scary when she wanted to be. "You bet your ass there's a lot of planning to do," she informed him. "You're going to be spending twice the money, three times the effort, and ten times the stress than you expected. Which reminds me, you're going to help me taste cakes on Saturday, right?"

"I thought you were going with the chocolate-vanilla combo?" Sam asked, bewildered.

Ava's glare would have melted concrete.

"Right. Saturday. You got it," Sam nodded.

"Get used to it. If you're going to propose to Ruby, you're in for at least six months of this." Ava twirled her finger in a circular motion, indicating herself.

"Bridezilla. Got it." Sam nodded earnestly before breaking out into a grin.

"I'm serious," Ava insisted. "Wait a little while, Sam; at least one more month. Move in together first. See what it's like to pay bills."

"Ava…" Sam sighed. "Haven't you ever just known? Looked into someone's eyes and…"

"Whatever." Ava rolled her eyes as she stood up. "I'm going to have lunch. I'll leave you to your sickeningly romantic musings."

"You'd think you'd have more sympathy," Sam grumbled.

"Poor puppy." Ava patted his cheek. "I'll be sure to dredge up some empathy once I get back from my honeymoon."

She sashayed out the door, barking orders at Jake. Ava was one of the sweetest people Sam knew but her gooey center was buried under a whole lot of take-no-shit attitude, and her impending nuptials hadn't improved her patience. She had Lily and Andy terrified of her, and Jake looked about ready to drive a pencil into his head.

Sam sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. Ava hadn't exactly been encouraging. He wanted to ask Dean, but he knew what he'd say. Even falling head-over-heels for his billionaire sex on a stick hadn't lessened Dean's protective streak. Dean Winchester's number one goal in life was to protect, and that principle applied in spades to his little brother. If he talked to anyone on the force, they'd rat him out to Dean once they got some beer in them, Charlie could never keep her mouth shut, and judging by Bobby's luck with Ellen he wasn't the best person to go to.

Well, screw them. He loved Ruby. She loved him. He didn't see why this had to be difficult.

* * *

"Heya Moose!"

Sam groaned. Just the person he needed to see.

Gabriel Novak, defense attorney, plopped himself down on top of the paperwork on Sam's desk. His grin was practically manic, and he was currently unwrapping a chocolate bar. The day Sam saw Gabriel without a piece of candy was the day the world ended.

"And how's my favorite prosecutor today?" Gabriel asked, taking a huge bite of the chocolate bar and proceeding to speak with his mouth full. "No offense, Sammy, but you look kinda stressed."

"What do you want, Gabe?" Sam asked wearily.

"I can't just stop by and say hello?" Gabriel clutched at his heart. "I'm wounded, Sammy, I really am."

"You never come in here unless you want something," Sam pointed out. "If it's about Kali, no, I'm not helping you get her back."

Gabriel opened his mouth, pointed at Sam, and then closed his mouth again. "Please, Moose?" Gabe batted his eyes. "She respects you. She'll listen to you."

"Gabe, you told her you were a 'free spirit'." Sam used air quotes to emphasize the point. The entire office had heard that final showdown between Kali and Gabriel, including things Sam had desperately  _not_  needed to know. "Until she knows you're ready to commit, she's not going to budge."

Gabriel pouted.

"The constant hookers aren't helping," Sam added.

Gabriel groaned. "What would you do if you were me, Sammy?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. Throw myself at her feet and beg for forgiveness?"

"You know, everyone says your brother is the snarky one but you've got some sass in you yet," Gabriel remarked. "But enough about my miserable tragedy of a love life. How are things going with Hellspawn?"

"Ruby is doing great." Sam glared. Gabriel and Ruby had gotten off on the wrong foot, and Gabe had called her Hellspawn ever since. "I'm thinking of proposing to her, actually."

To Sam's unending shock, Gabriel pulled him into an enthusiastic hug. "That's fantastic, Sammy!"

"It is?" To say that Sam was confused would have been an understatement.

"Of course! I'd prefer you marry someone other than that little demon but still! You deserve happiness! Appreciate what you have while you still have it, and all that shit!" Gabriel's grin nearly reached his ears.

It occurred to Sam that every single one of his coworkers was at least partially insane.

"I know Dean will be best man but I can still be a groomsman right? I know some great caterers." Gabe popped another piece of chocolate into his mouth.

Sam could feel a headache coming on. "I haven't even actually popped the question yet, Gabe."

"Oh, she'll say yes." Gabriel waved dismissively. "Handsome god like you? She'd have to be blind."

Sam had gotten used to Gabriel's semi-homosexual remarks about his physique, and so ignored the comment. "Ava seems to think I'm insane."

"Of course you're insane!" Gabe hopped off the desk. "All people in love are insane. It's how it works. Anyway, I have to go shuffle some papers around on my desk and yell into the phone so I look busy. Toodles!"

Sam plunked his head down onto the desk. Seriously, the only place in Gotham that held more crazies was Arkham.

* * *

Dean was whistling to himself when he unlocked his apartment door. Work hadn't gotten any easier, but Cas had stopped by for lunch as a surprise, fresh juicy burgers from the place down the street in his hand. Talk about improving Dean's day by a hundred percent. It had been a couple of weeks but Dean still got that rush whenever he saw Cas, all troubles melting away as if they'd never even existed. He hadn't even known such feelings were possible.

As he set his things down on the coffee table, the phone rang. He grinned at the name on the screen and answered.

"Heya, Sammy!"

"You're in a good mood," Sam replied. He sounded rather confused.

"What? I can't be happy every now and then?" Dean demanded with a grin.

"No, it's just…" Sam sighed. "Look, I was wondering if I could come over for a minute?"

"Sure." Dean frowned. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's great, Dean. I just want to talk. We can talk without there being a crisis, right?"

Dean could just picture the bitchface Sam was making. "Whatever you say. Just bring some beer, will you? I'm out."

Sam's eye-roll was practically audible. "Jerk. I'll see you in ten."

"See you." Dean hung up.

He wondered if it was time for him to bring Cas to the Roadhouse, introduce him to the gang. The internal debate ate up the time it took for Sam to drive over, and when Dean answered the door he was met with a case of beer being thrust into his face.

"Gee, thanks, Sam," Dean said, moving to put the beer in the fridge. "So what's this urgent not-crisis we need to talk about?"

Sam pulled a face before sitting down heavily on the couch. His lanky frame took up the entire piece of furniture, so Dean snagged himself a bottle and settled into the easy chair.

Crisis or not, going by the way Sam's leg was jerking up and down, this was serious.

"Dean, I…" Sam cleared his throat, then licked his lips, then cleared his throat again. "What do you think of Ruby?"

"Hard to tell, man." Dean took a swig. "I've only really talked to her once. But it's only been a couple of weeks."

Sam nodded. "It's just that I… I'm going to ask her to marry me."

Dean choked on his mouthful of beer, coughing violently, thumping his chest as his eyes watered. "You're  _what_?"

"I'm going to propose to her," Sam restated. This time his jaw was set and his eyes were solid, determined.

"No. No way." Dean shook his head. "You said you've only been together a month and a half!"

"You've only been with Cas for two weeks!" Sam countered.

"Yeah, but I'm not planning on walking down the aisle with him!" Dean replied, standing up and beginning to pace. "God, Sammy, two months isn't enough time to know someone. What about moving in together? What about the whole six-months thing?"

"Dean, I think I'm old enough to make this kind of decision for myself," Sam pointed out.

"But you've never been like this, Sam!" Dean realized he was shouting and tried to lower his voice. It felt like he'd been plugged into an electrical socket, his body filled with this uncontrollable buzzing energy. "Ruby is the fourth girl you've dated in your entire life! The first two you dated for four years, and you'd have dated Madison for just as long given the chance! This is… two months, Sammy? Two months? That's nothing!"

"It's enough to know that I love her," Sam replied, also standing. "I can't believe I'm saying this…" He shuffled from foot to foot, looking nervous. When he next spoke, it was while looking at the floor.

"I took one look at her and–-God, Dean, it was like I'd been smacked with a two-by-four. I just  _knew_. Haven't you ever had that?"

Dean's throat constricted. He'd thought he'd had that with Cassie, until he'd realized she hadn't felt the same. He'd tried having that with Lisa, a medical examiner with whom he'd had a casual on-again off-again relationship for a couple of years. But he hadn't ever been blindsided like that, taken one look and found he'd been unable to even draw breath, until two weeks ago.

Not until he'd met Cas.

Something in his face must have given the game up, because Sam nodded. "I thought so."

Dean glared. "Doesn't mean I approve."

"Why the hell not?" Sam demanded. "What have you got against her?"

"Nothing!" Dean yelled. And he didn't. Nothing solid, anyway. Ruby rubbed him the wrong way but it wasn't like she was a criminal or a stripper or anything.

"Then tell me what your problem is!"

"What if it happens again?" Dean demanded. "Damn it Sam. What if…"

"That's exactly why, Dean!" Sam shouted. "You know what happened with Jess. I barely even got a chance with Madison. Something, anything could come along and take this away. I want to seize the opportunity while I have it, Dean."

Dean felt himself crumble. Sam had always been a romantic, wanting that apple-pie life. Dean used to want that too, when he'd thought it was what you were supposed to have. Now he knew better, but Sam genuinely wanted that. Sam had been handed everything life could offer: a good family, movie star looks, a brilliant mind, a sweet, sensitive personality… and it had all backfired on him.

Sam deserved his happy ending.

"Okay, Sammy." Dean nodded. "Go on. Propose to her with a truckload of roses and enough candles to set the city on fire."

Sam looked dumbstruck. "Are you… you're serious?"

Dean shrugged, forcing a smile onto his face. "If she makes you happy, then…"

Sam lunged forwards, hugging him with bone-crushing intensity. Dean wrapped his arms around his big little brother's back, telling himself that the tears were from the pain of Sam squeezing his ribs.

* * *

Sam had never realized how difficult breathing was.

Of course, breathing had never been difficult until that moment, standing in his darkened office, waiting for Ruby to arrive. He'd planned every moment of this, obsessing over every detail, but now that the time had come he was panicking. What if he messed up? What if he'd forgotten something?

What if she said no?

"Sam?"

Ruby entered the office, blinking in confusion. "Sam?" She repeated. Her voice was tinged with apprehension.

He'd filled the office with candles, casting a soft, warm glow over the otherwise dark room.

"Hey." He stepped out where she could see him, smiling.

"Sam, what is all this?" Ruby gestured at the candles, looking confused.

"Ruby." Sam took a deep breath. His chest felt incredibly tight and heavy. "For a long time, I was lost. I didn't think I'd ever get the chance to find someone, someone to share the rest of my life with. I thought I'd lost that opportunity."

Understanding dawned in Ruby's eyes and she stood stock-still.

"But then you waltzed into my office and I was hopeful again. You were everything I could ever have asked for, and I think I've been in love with you since I the moment I first saw you."

He lowered himself onto one knee, extracting the tiny velvet box from his pocket. Ruby's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes widening as he opened the box and she saw the ring.

"So, Ruby Thomas, love of my life; will you marry me?"

The next few minutes were kind of a blur, seeing as Ruby was kissing the hell out of him and his eyes were closed, but he was pretty sure he heard a  _yes_  in there somewhere.


	6. Chapter 6

"Dean."

Dean burrowed further underneath the covers, tugging Cas closer to him and nuzzling into the solid shoulder.

"Dean, it's time to get up."

"Noiz not," Dean mumbled, nosing at the tattoo that covered Cas's back and shoulders. The first time he'd seen the massive wings that spanned Cas's skin he'd only been able to gape. He'd also, incidentally, realized he definitely had a tattoo kink.

The tattoo was magnificent. Two wings covered Cas's upper arms, shoulders, and back, made with some kind of silky black ink that still looked brand new, although Cas explained he had gotten them when he was eighteen.

"They remind me of my parents," he had said. "How they tried to protect and watch over the city, and how they always encouraged me to soar and pursue my dreams."

Dean really wanted to find the artist that had tattooed the wings on, because although the ink was supposedly black, when it hit the light it reflected color like spilled oil. And when Cas flexed his muscles, the wings seemed to have depth and shadow, secret images and colors hiding in the black depths. It was almost three-dimensional.

Quite simply, Dean was addicted to Cas's tattoo. This would have been worrisome, but Dean was addicted to the rest of Cas as well so it all evened out. Cas also liked Dean's tattoo of a handprint on his left shoulder, and the tattoo just above his heart. Dean had explained how the latter had been when he was eighteen, something he'd done with Sam as a brothers-bonding thing. The second one had been when Seraph had grabbed him. The vigilante had gripped Dean so hard the guy had left a perfectly hand-shaped bruise. Dean had snuck out of the hospital while the bruise was still fresh, getting it tattooed so he would always remember what Seraph and others had sacrificed to get him out. Dean had gotten the tattoo in red ink, like a scar, a memory burned into his flesh.

"Dean." Cas's voice was definitely more breathless now. Dean sucked a bit of inked skin between his teeth and found himself pinned to the mattress, Cas keeping him there with hands on his shoulders and laser blue eyes.

"Stop that," Cas admonished.

Dean grinned cheekily up at him. "C'mon, Cas. I don't have to be at work for a while."

Cas rolled his eyes. "You are incorrigible. And a slut."

"Only for you, baby," Dean quipped, feeling his heart skip in its rhythm. He was teasing but it was true--he'd never been this eager for anyone before.

Cas looked like he was wavering, so Dean hooked an ankle just so and flipped them. Cas, however, would not be taken down so easily and they tussled playfully, rolling and wrestling until they were tangled in the sheets and panting. Cas still ended up on top, trapping Dean's hands to the bed. Dean squirmed but found, to his surprise, that he honestly couldn't get free. He'd known that Cas worked out a lot, taking martial arts lessons and such as a way to fill his day, but he hadn't realized just how strong Cas was until now, as his boyfriend pinned him effortlessly. It was almost scary, how strong Cas was. It was also a hell of a turn-on.

Seeing as escape wasn't an option, Dean switched tactics. He twisted his head, nuzzling into Cas's arm and running his tongue along the skin, including the thin scar there. Cas had a startling amount of scars on his body, most on the small side, including ones from a tiger swipe when he'd been doing some humanitarian work at a preserve for the Foundation. Fortunately, Cas seemed to have some kind of kink about them, and kissing or licking them always got him going. Dean heard Cas make a strangled noise and then Dean had an extra tongue in his mouth, Cas's slim body pressed against his own.

Dean was a good half hour late to work, but found he could care less.

* * *

"We picked a day," Sam announced.

Dean tried not to spit out his coffee. "Already?"

Sam nodded, looking so damn happy it made Dean's heart squeeze. "Mom and Dad's anniversary is next month, so we thought we'd do it then. It'd be a way to honor them, almost as if they were there. Don't you think?"

Dean didn't know what to think. This was his baby brother, all grown up and getting married. "Whatever you want, Sammy."

Sam beamed. "Thanks, Dean. You know you're the best man, right?"

Dean swallowed. He'd assumed so, but Sam hadn't mentioned it until then. "I'm honored."

"We'll also have Ash, Victor and Benny… oh, and Gabe."

Dean choked on his coffee. "Gabriel? What the hell?"

Sam turned his puppy eyes on full blast. "Shut it, Dean. He'll never admit it but he'll feel left out if I don't include him. Garth is officiating…"

Dean snorted.

"Ruby doesn't have any family so Ava offered to give her away. Jo, Anna and Charlie all offered to be bridesmaids… and then, uh, there's the maid of honor."

Dean frowned. "What about her?"

Sam took a deep breath. "She's Meg Masters."

Dean really did spit out his coffee that time. He needed to stop taking drinks around Sam. "What the hell?"

Sam looked like he'd braced himself for this. "Apparently she and Ruby grew up together for a while, spent time in the same foster house. They were best friends for years until they got older. Meg started getting into detention, went in and out of juvie… but they stayed in touch when they could. I know she was Alastair's assistant–"

"She's his daughter, Sam," Dean cut in. This was something the general public didn't know, but Sam had heard from Dean a while back. "She's that asshole's  _daughter_. Tracked him down and became his twisted little Mini-Me. And you want her to be your fiancée's maid of honor?"

"I don't like it, but she meant a lot to Ruby and she's the only friend Ruby ever had until she met me," Sam countered. "She was all alone in the world until I introduced her to our office friends, Dean, and she still doesn't fit in with everyone. She's been really great about everything: the small ceremony, the reception at the Roadhouse, everything. She's not asking for a lot. I can get the papers for Meg to have a day of parole from Arkham. She'll be escorted to and from the ceremony by GPD, and she won't even go to the reception."

Dean growled. "I suppose I'm going to have to be the one to sign this paperwork?"

Sam withdrew the papers from his briefcase, handing them over to Dean. Dean barely glanced at them.

"Sam, there are so many things that could go wrong with this. What if she attacks Ruby? When was the last time Ruby even saw her?"

"Ruby visits her every week, Dean," Sam admitted. "Look, we've done a lot of thinking about this. Ruby knows that Meg is unbalanced. But Meg has never harmed Ruby or done anything suspicious with her. The doctors at Arkham say that Meg is at her most lucid around Ruby, and that her psychosis has nothing to do with her friend. It's perfectly safe. And this wedding is going to be full of cops. If Meg tries anything, you'll all shut her down before she can even makes a move."

Dean had to concede Sam had a point, but that didn't make him any more comfortable with it. Still… Ruby had been rather gracious in letting Sam make most of the plans. She really didn't have any family; Dean had made Ash run a background check on her. And he never could refuse Sammy anything. His little brother had always been his biggest weakness.

"Fine," Dean ground out, quickly signing the papers. "But I'm making sure everyone's got their badges and their pieces holstered. I'm not taking any chances."

Sam's eyes lit up like Christmas. "Thanks, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah. Go get your reward for being a good fiancé," Dean replied.

The moment Sam left his office Dean sagged against his chair. It was Thursday, which meant he'd be having his weekly meeting that night.

It wouldn't hurt to let Seraph know what was going on, just in case.

* * *

Castiel slowed down as he approached the rooftop. Dean's shoulders were stiff and hunched, and not from the cold. Something was up.

In the three weeks he'd been with Dean, Castiel had grown to know the man better than anyone else. It amazed and astounded him, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away. Every moment he spent with Dean only made him crave more, and he found that his nights of fighting crime held even more meaning than before. Now he had more than just the nameless innocents to protect. He had a specific person, someone he cared for fiercely, to think of as he fought to keep the city safe. He wanted a city where Dean could wake up and never fear he'd be back in the Pit. Dean's presence in his life had only made Cas's quest more urgent, and solidified his determination to rid Gotham of crime.

Surprisingly, his relationship with Dean had yet to come into conflict with his mission, at least in terms of scheduling. More often than not Dean spent the night at the manor but Cas had never woken him when he'd slipped away, and he'd always managed to be back before Dean woke up. Dean knew about his morning exercises and would come down to the manor's gym, often joining him in a boxing match. Castiel was always careful to save his more intense workouts for the cave so that Dean wouldn't see just how skilled of a fighter he was. They would then have breakfast, prepared by Balthazar, and head into town for work. Baz continued to make comments but they weren't as barbed as before, and Castiel suspected that his longtime friend approved of the situation.

As Castiel landed on the edge of the roof, however, he couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive. Dean had something on his mind, and Castiel wondered if he'd slipped up somehow, if Dean had found out.

"Hey there, Thursday."

Dean's usual grin was absent from his face.

"You seem under duress," Castiel observed, making sure his voice was lowered. He was honestly a trifle surprised that Dean hadn't figured things out going by his voice alone.

"I've got a situation for you," Dean explained. "See, my brother Sam… he's getting married."

"Congratulations," Castiel offered. The discussion he'd had with Dean about that had lasted over an hour. "Are you concerned about Evil Eye?"

Dean shook his head. "If the guy hasn't struck by now, I don't think he will. But the thing is, Sam's fiancé… I guess she and this one girl were best friends growing up. No family, no other friends, so this meant a lot to her. So, of course, she wants the girl to be her maid of honor at the wedding. But uh, this chick… it's Meg Masters."

Castiel stiffened. Ruby's childhood best friend was Sketch?

He made a mental note to have Charlie go over both Meg and Ruby's history again.

"I see," he graveled. "And you wish for me to keep an eye on the ceremony."

Dean nodded. "We're all officers, but Alastair trained her. She's wily and deadly. I don't want to take any chances. Not with Sam."

Castiel had to stifle a fond smile at his brave, protective Dean, always thinking of his family. Castiel admired his courage and sacrifices, and wish he had the ability to say so when he was Seraph as well as when he was himself.

"I will be there," he promised.

"Good." Dean nodded. "Good."

There was an awkward moment during which Castiel ruffled his feathers to keep out the cold. Dean's eyes slid to the appendages, and Castiel had to stop the shiver that ran through him. Dean's gaze was both hot and yearning, and Castiel found himself wanting to show his wings off. He had never been proud of them, always wanted to hide them even from his family members, but now he wanted to reveal them to Dean. He had a feeling that he would receive nothing but admiration in return.

Castiel tucked his wings more tightly into himself.  _Dean Winchester, you are a terrible distraction._

The movement seemed to snap Dean back to reality, and he cleared his throat. "So, uh, for the weekly report…"

* * *

God, he was such an idiot.

Dean slipped behind the wheel of the Impala, glaring into empty space. Staring at Seraph's wings like that? Seriously? He couldn't have made a bigger fool of himself if he'd tried.

At least he hadn't given in to his urge to run his fingers through them.

What was he thinking? He had a boyfriend--an awesomely hot boyfriend that belonged on the cover of a magazine or something. A stranger with a sexy voice should not be turning him on.

But there was something about Seraph, something achingly familiar, that Dean just couldn't shake. It was probably just because of the whole saving his life thing, but Dean felt it was more than that. He felt comfortable around the guy, like he'd known him for years, and he could have sworn that the other man felt the same.

Shaking his head, Dean turned the music on to full blast as he pulled out of the parking space. The aforementioned sexy ass boyfriend would be eating dinner now, and if Dean hurried he could get back before Cas had finished.

Dean snorted. Three weeks in and he was already going domestic. He even had his own parking space in the manor's massive car hanger, among the pristine vintage Oldsmobile, Mustang and Camaro models. Dean couldn't wait to get his hands on them and see if they were as well kept on the inside as on the outside.

Sure enough, Cas was curled up on a couch, still munching on a pizza when Dean entered. Balthazar had tried, and failed, to convince them to eat proper meals. Although Dean had to admit--the guy made a mean burger.

"Hello Dean," Cas said without tearing his eyes away from the book he was reading.

No matter how quiet Dean was, Cas always knew he was there, like some kind of sixth sense.

"Hey there." Dean kissed the spot just beneath Cas's ear, delighting in the shiver that wracked Cas's body. "What are you reading?"

Cas held up the book  _Elantris_. "Charlie recommended it to me. Apparently this is the author's debut novel."

"And a good one it is." Dean grinned. "Sanderson is underappreciated by the mainstream. I'd hate to see him and G.R.R. Martin combine forces. I don't think the fans would survive."

Cas snorted and set the book down, carefully inserting a bookmark. "I was thinking…" He paused.

"Yeah?" Dean settled down next to him, pulling Cas into his lap so that Cas could snuggle against Dean's chest, his head on Dean's shoulder. It had quickly become their habit to curl up together like that. Dean snagged a piece of pizza from the box. "What were you thinking?"

"I was wondering if, perhaps…" Cas twisted to look up into Dean's face, chewing on his lip. "If perhaps you would be amenable to sharing accommodations?"

"I love it when you use big words," Dean said, bumping their noses together.

And then the meaning of Cas's words sunk in.

"You want me to move in with you?"

Cas nodded. "You don't seem happy at your place, and mine  _is_  bigger…"

There was pizza grease all over their lips, but Dean didn't really care. He kissed Cas, long and deep, his hand cupping Cas's chin to hold him in place. Even though they were just kissing lazily, Cas's tongue was merciless, and when Dean pulled away he was breathless.

"So that's a yes?" Cas asked, looking a little dazed.

"Yes," Dean replied. "I spend all of my time here anyway."

Cas laughed. "You do."

"Of course, this means we're official," Dean said, trying to sound casual.

"And we weren't before?" Cas asked.

"No, but, I mean…" Dean frowned. "I want you to meet the Rat Pack."

Cas, thank God, understood. "I would be honored."

Dean nodded, grinning. "Tomorrow night, then?"

Cas smiled and pressed an openmouthed kiss to Dean's neck. "Tomorrow night."

The rest of the evening was spent with Dean watching horrible reality television shows and  _Teen Wolf_  while Cas read his book. And if at one point the book was abandoned on the floor and the television was ignored, well, that was more than fine in Dean's book.

* * *

Dean was sweating bullets.

Everyone knew he was a bit of a slut. Okay, more than a bit. But while Sam had run the 'meet the family' gauntlet four times now, no one at the Roadhouse had ever met any of Dean's hookups. Only Sam knew about Cassie, and everyone save Charlie and Ellen worked with Lisa so introducing her had kind of been a moot point. Besides, they'd never really been more than friends with benefits.

But this was Cas. This was someone that he cared about, someone he was freaking  _living with_  as soon as he got around to moving his stuff over that weekend, and someone that he felt incredibly close to. This wasn't a one-night-stand or even a casual series of dates. This was something Dean was terrified to name but already knew instinctually. He'd never thought of himself as a forever kind of guy, not since Cassie, but with Cas… he could see it happening.

It was scary enough without throwing his insane family into the mix.

Thing was, Sam was the only person he called 'family' that was his actual flesh and blood. This was a family that they'd all built together. Bobby and Ellen had helped, what with Bobby taking in Charlie and Ellen having Jo, but Ash had sort of wandered into their lives, Victor and Benny had spilled blood for him and he for them, and Anna had been a sister the minute she'd downed ten shots of Jose Cuervo in one sitting. Hell, even Rufus Turner, head of the Gotham Fire Department, and his wife Jody Mills, Ellen's best friend and Dean's new Deputy Commissioner, were going to be there tonight, their adopted son Kevin in tow.

They were related by sweat, laughter and tears, by inside jokes and comedic mishaps, by shared tragedy and the passage of time. And if they didn't like Cas, Dean really wasn't sure how he'd be able to handle it.

In retrospect, he shouldn't have worried.

Anna and Charlie already knew Cas, and Jo quickly warmed to him. Ellen was charmed by his manners and Ash took one look at the guy and declared that anyone that sexy had to be worth knowing. Benny and Cas spent the first half hour side-eyeing each other, and Dean had definitely started to sweat until Victor got them into a dart-throwing competition that got whatever alpha male thing they had going on out of their system. Kevin was a nerdy genius and apparently worked in some obscure division of Novak Enterprises and he and Cas had a lively hour-long conversation huddled over a couple of beers.

Dean grinned, nursing his beer as Cas and Benny went at it with the darts again, Jo insisting that she'd beat the pants off of them next round. Victor just stood next to her, arms folded, laughing and egging her on.

"That's something good you got there, son."

Dean glanced over at Bobby, who had been wrangled onto a barstool. The old man had been suspiciously quiet for the past hour or so.

"You think so?" Dean asked.

Bobby smacked him upside the head. "Don't think I don't know what this means. You bringing a date to the Roadhouse? You've picked up plenty of people from here but you've never brought one."

Dean felt his face growing hot and took a swig of beer.

"Don't think I don't see how you look at him, boy," Bobby went on. "And I've seen how he looks at you."

Dean was one hundred percent certain his face was bright red by now.

Bobby sighed. "You're a lot like your mother, son, but in one way you're like your father--you fall, it's hard and fast and deep. Don't fuck this up because you let that scare you."

Dean remembered Bobby's wife Karen. She had died back when Dean was ten after a long battle with cancer, but she'd been the light of Bobby's life. Dean hadn't thought he'd see Bobby look at anyone that way again until about two years after Bill had died, when Bobby seemed to realize that Ellen was both female and rather attractive.

"I don't think you're the best one to be giving that advice, old man," Dean replied.

"And why not?" Bobby snapped.

Dean waved his beer towards Ellen, who was getting some customers another round.

Bobby snorted. "Boy, you've got your head so far up your ass it's no wonder you can't walk straight. I asked her out six months ago."

And because his family had a talent for delivering shocking news right as he took a drink of something, Dean's swallow of beer was spewed out of his mouth.

"What?"

Bobby grinned at him. "Like I said, don't like fear get in the way."

Various protests piled up in Dean's throat: that he wasn't good enough for Cas, that he had scars, that some day Cas was going to wise up and dump his sorry ass, that he was going to do something to ruin all of this… but they all died away as he looked back over at where Cas was trading jokes with Benny, watching Victor coach Jo on how to properly throw a dart. Jo knew how to throw a dart. She was the dart-throwing champion. But hey, any excuse to let Victor wrap his arms around her and press up against her back, Dean supposed with a smirk.

As if sensing Dean's gaze, Cas turned and locked eyes with him. As he did so, he gave Dean a genuine grin, with teeth and everything.

It was the first time Dean had ever seen Cas truly smile.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, grinning right back at Cas. "Like you said, Bobby."

* * *

Cas padded silently across the bedroom, lifting up the covers to slide back underneath next to Dean. Crime had been down in Gotham lately, and for the past week he'd been able to get back home by three. Dean stirred, pawing at Cas in his sleep, muttering something about cold. Cas obligingly let Dean pull them together, entangling their legs and draping his arm across Cas's chest.

He knew he should have been grateful that things had been so peaceful lately, but he couldn't shake off a feeling of foreboding. It was as if the entire criminal underworld was holding its breath, waiting. Even the Conundrum had gone underground, taking the Leviathan gang with him. The day that enterprising bastard didn't even leave a teasing note at the Wing Signal was a day to be concerned about.

Cas tried to shove those thoughts out of his mind, focusing on the sound of Dean's deep, even breathing. He couldn't forget how Dean had looked at him earlier that night at the Roadhouse, his deep green eyes brimming with joy and something that made Cas's chest tighten.

He wondered how long it would be before he had to tell Dean the truth. Would Dean accept it? Or would he run away? Would he be angry with Cas or refuse to even talk to him at all?

Cas turned his head, burying his nose in Dean's soft golden hair, inhaling Dean's scent. Tomorrow was Saturday, which meant Dean would be at the garage with Bobby, tinkering around for fun like he had as a teenager.

Cas's chest ached. He couldn't stand to lose Dean. He didn't know how, but in three short weeks Dean had become a part of him, and if Dean left him Cas didn't know how he could cope.

The intercom crackled to life next to the bed.

"Castiel? Castiel!"

Cas jolted up, picking up the receiver. "Dean's asleep. What is it?"

Balthazar sounded incredibly urgent. "Charlie just called with some information. It's about Asmodeus."

Castiel started to climb out of bed. "What is it?"

"Apparently his second-in-command is arriving in the city. According to Charlie this means that the city is marked for destruction and Asmodeus himself will be arriving shortly."

"How shortly?"

Balthazar paused. "Two weeks."

Castiel cursed. "What else does Charlie know about this lieutenant?" If he could get to this person before Asmodeus arrived, he could lay a trap.

"Only that it's a woman, and she'll have arrived within the last week."

Castiel paused. "The last week?"

"Yes," Balthazar replied.

He would have to pull up the logs to be sure, but there was only one new rogue that had appeared during that time period, and it wasn't the Interrogator.

It was someone named Night Spectre.

"I'll get on it," he graveled, setting the phone down.

The second the phone was in its cradle, however, it rang.

Castiel hurriedly picked it up. "Balthazar–"

"Guess again."

The smooth voice on the other line was deeper, rougher than it had been when Castiel last heard it, but there was no mistaking it.

"Cas?" Dean sat up behind him, slinking his arms around Castiel's waist and resting his head on Cas's shoulder. "Everything okay, babe?"

"Lucifer?" Castiel asked, hardly daring to breathe.

"The one and only." His older brother chuckled. "Honestly, Castiel, you'd think I'd died."

"Twenty years and no word from you? It's not an illogical assumption," Castiel pointed out.

Dean's thumb swiped lazily at Cas's stomach, soothing him.

"Well, assume no more," Lucifer replied. "I'm coming home."

"What?" Castiel could hardly breathe. The last time Lucifer and Michael had been in a room together, they'd both walked away bloody. Gabriel had run and hid somewhere on the grounds for a week, Raphael hadn't spoken to anyone for a month, and Anna had cried herself to sleep for weeks.

"Better air out one of the guest rooms, baby brother," Lucifer said gaily. "My plane lands in two weeks--I'll have my secretary fax you the details."

Castiel opened his mouth. "You c–"

There was a  _click_ , and the line went dead.

"Cas?" Dean pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. "Cas. Who was that?"

Castiel let himself sink back against Dean's chest, his pulse racing. As if he didn't have enough to worry about with Asmodeus, now his wayward older brother had decided to show his face after twenty years of absence.

"Cas. Babe. Talk to me." Dean sounded worried, and Cas felt his arms tighten. "Is everything okay?"

"Lucifer," Cas replied. "It's my brother Lucifer."

He could feel Dean frown. "The one who vanished after your parents died?"

"Sort of." Cas sighed, twisting so that Dean could see his face. "Michael is the oldest, and Lucifer is the second-oldest. There's a gap between them and Gabriel, and Raphael was adopted when he was ten, so they grew up incredibly close. Lucifer would follow Michael everywhere. They were inseparable.

"But Lucifer… he was rather rebellious towards our father. Michael loved Father, always did everything he could to please him, and it was starting to cause a rift. The night our parents died, right before they took me to the opera, Father had a huge fight with Lucifer. He told Michael to keep an eye on him while we were gone. Lucifer was still seething when they got the news of the deaths and said…"

Cas swallowed. Even the ghost of those words was painful. "He said that he was glad they were dead."

Dean had gone completely still, his hold on Cas painfully tight.

"Michael and Lucifer started beating the shit out of each other. Alfred tried to stop it but he couldn't. In the end Michael was older and bigger, so he won. He drove Lucifer out of the house, telling him never to come back, that he was dead to us.

"None of us have heard from him since."

Silence fell for a moment as Cas let it all sink in before he spoke again. "It tore us apart. We'd just lost our parents, which should have banded us together, but instead it sent our older brothers at each other's throats. Our own brothers were trying to kill each other.

"We all dealt with it differently. Gabriel ran off to somewhere on the grounds; none of us knew where, but he showed back up a week later. We thought it was over then but he just went his own way after that. All of this forced bravado and cheer but he never was close to any of us again. He never shared anything, never confided in us.

"Raphael didn't speak to anybody for a month. He was completely silent. Even when he did start talking it was so… so cold. He used to have the warmest laugh, to play chess with us, but after that he barely even acknowledged us anymore. He just halfheartedly did whatever Michael told him to.

"Anna had nightmares for weeks. She'd wake up screaming and crying. I ended up sharing a bed with her so that someone would always be there when she woke up. There were even some nights when she'd sleepwalk.

"And Michael… he just… he shut down. Suddenly he wasn't our brother anymore. He was our caretaker. He became so authoritarian, so stern and strict. He got into politics and the only time he had for us was to bark orders.

"We didn't just lose our parents that day, Dean. In a way we lost ourselves, and we lost the family that we had been."

There was a long pause before Dean spoke again, and Cas could see that he was carefully processing all that he had been told. "What about you?"

The question took Cas by surprise. "What about me?"

"You said that you all dealt with it differently." Dean quoted. "How did you handle it?"

 _By becoming a vigilante_ , Cas thought. If there ever was a perfect time to say it, that time was now.

But that wasn't what came out of his mouth.

"I found you."

Dean stared at him, jaw slack and eyes wide. "What?" He asked, voice strangled.

"When I found you," Cas repeated. He shifted so that they were sitting side by side, their foreheads touching. Now that he'd said it, he knew it was the truth. "I spent years thinking I'd handled my demons, that I'd learned how to cope. But I found no joy in life, Dean. Everything was just shades of gray. I did what I had to do to help people but I never took anything for myself. I never relaxed. I wasn't truly alive. And then I met you and somehow everything just fell away."

He searched Dean's eyes, looking for something, anything, to show that Dean felt the same. Dean was staring at the sheets, breathing heavily.

"Say something," Cas pleaded.

Dean didn't. Instead he pushed Cas back onto the bed, kissing him desperately, his hands roaming everywhere.

"Need you," Dean whispered in between frantic kisses. "I didn't know I needed you until I had you but God, Cas, do you have any idea… and I wanted to say it, wanted so bad, but I was scared shitless you'd run, that you'd push me away."

Cas yanked Dean's head back so that they could see each other again. "Never," he growled. "I need you too, you asshole."

Dean grinned, but his eyes were wet. "Good."

He made a trail of openmouthed kisses up Cas's neck to his ear. "I love you," he breathed, his voice so soft and vulnerable it made Cas's heart ache.

"I love you too," he replied, his voice shaky.

Dean kissed him again, deep and consuming, and the last coherent thought Cas had was that there was no going back now. He was utterly lost to this man.

They'd reached the point of no return.


	7. Chapter 7

"Son of a bitch!"

Dean rubbed his head, glaring up at the car he was currently lodged under. He'd grown up at Bobby's auto repair shop, working on the cars from the time he was ten, but for some reason he always managed to bang his head at least once a day.

It really didn't help that he was distracted.

It was a Saturday, which meant he didn't have to go into the office, even though he was still on-call. This, in turn, usually meant lazy morning sex followed by a large breakfast and a day at the garage, fixing up cars with Bobby. Ash and Jo were often there, gossiping like old maids while Charlie read  _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_  or  _Malazan: Book of the Fallen_. But while so far everything had gone according to schedule, Dean found he couldn't relax.

He blamed his current train of thought.

He didn't regret what he'd said to Cas last night. There had been such vulnerability in Cas's eyes, a kind of tremble in his voice that Dean couldn't deny. He'd thought he was the only scared one in this relationship; the only one sucked in deep and worried about coming up for air. When he'd seen that Cas felt the same…

No. He regretted nothing. He loved Cas, and nothing was going to change that. Cas was sweet and supportive and annoyingly educated, and fucking deserved to be running Novak Enterprises no matter what that asshat Zachariah said, and he was the single most adorable and sexy human being Dean had ever laid eyes on.

So what in hell was this Seraph thing?

Sure, the guy was probably hot, going by the skintight suit. But Dean saw plenty of good-looking men and women on a daily basis and none of them sparked anything. Cas could be a fucking cocktease but he could turn Dean into a babbling mess in two seconds flat, and those hot blue bedroom eyes made him honest to God weak at the knees.

Long story short, there was absolutely no reason for Dean to be drawn to Seraph. He couldn't even say he had a crush on the guy. It was more like… like he was someone Dean had once known but hadn't seen in years. Every time he saw him there was this itch in the back of Dean's neck, like there was something important that he was forgetting. And there was that magnetism, that force drawing Dean in against his will. It was definitely something more than lust… but Dean couldn't place it. And it was bothering him. In fact it was nearly five, almost time to call it quits, and he'd spent the entire day worried about it.

"Dean?"

Jo poked her head underneath the car. "You have a phone call."

Dean frowned. "What is it?"

"Apparently you've been left a note at the signal. It's from Seraph."

* * *

Castiel hadn't wanted to get Dean involved, but he saw no other choice. If Asmodeus's plan was as far-reaching as his team's research suggested, then the Gotham PD was going to be involved whether Castiel wanted them to be or not. He might as well forewarn Dean.

In the meantime, he had to track down Night Spectre. She was a new villain, only coming in Gotham in the last week, and fit the bill for Asmodeus's second in command. Now that Dean would be informed about Night Spectre and the possibility of Asmodeus, Castiel felt a little more at ease about the situation. Whether he believed it himself or not, Dean was more than capable of handling his new position.

Landing beside the signal, Castiel was surprised to see that it was already on. He half-expected it to be a box or something similar from Roman, another conundrum as a clue to solving whatever crime the rogue was going to perpetrate next, but instead there was a small envelope. The word  _Feathers_  was written in red ink, the handwriting elegant. It had been years since he'd seen that writing, but he recognized it immediately.

Castiel opened it carefully, aware that it might be booby-trapped. Inside was a letter, written in the same elegant scrawl.

_Angel_

_If you wouldn't mind stopping by my office sometime, I have some information that you'll find useful._

_By 'sometime', I mean as soon as possible. Time isn't on your side, darling._

The letter was signed by an even-sided cross.

* * *

When Dean got out of his car and started walking up the steps to Headquarters, he found he wasn't alone. The extremely perky and blonde-haired Becky Rosen, star journalist of  _The Gotham Times_ , was trailing him with her recorder in hand. Besides being the girlfriend of the newspaper's editor, Chuck Shurley, she was one of the single most determined people Dean had ever met, and definitely the most annoying.

"Commissioner? Commissioner Winchester! A quick word?"

Dean ignored her, picking up his pace a little.

"Commissioner, how are you liking your new post? How are you getting along with the Mayor? You haven't granted a single press release or interview since you were given the job; are you feeling incompetent?"

Dean wondered if he would go to Hell for punching a girl.

"What are your views on Seraph? Is he truly Gotham's guardian angel, or a dangerous vigilante? What about his sidekick Valkyrie?" Becky went on. "Do you think he's associated with the vigilante the Interrogator, and do you condone her more brutal methods?"

That did it. Dean turned around and snatched the recorder from her hands, speaking into it a little more harshly than was necessary. "Look, I don't know what the rest of the world thinks, and I don't care. That guy saved my life, and he's saved the lives of half the people in this city whether they know it or not. I do my job and he does his, and so far he's been nothing but respectful towards us. As for the Interrogator, she's not like him. They don't use the same methods, and she's sure as hell not respectful of the GPD. I appreciate my criminals delivered in one piece, not bleeding out of their eye sockets. The crime rate is down by twenty percent since he started patrolling, and it's going to go down another twenty if I have any say in it."

Dean shoved the recorder back at her. "There's your interview, Miss Rosen," he growled. "Now get out of my way."

He didn't wait for her to move, shoving past and walking as quickly as he could into the building.

* * *

Castiel landed noiselessly in the office. "Crowley," he graveled.

"Ah, my second-favorite vigilante," Crowley said airily. "I trust you got my message?"

"Why else would I be here?" Castiel replied.

"For my charming personality and the free cookies?" Crowley offered, putting his feet up on his desk.

Castiel allowed himself a frown. "Why did you call me here, Crowley?"

"Always business with you," Crowley sighed melodramatically. "I have some information that you need very badly."

Castiel's frown deepened. "You don't want anything in return?"

Crowley waved a hand. "You'll owe me a favor."

If Crowley was offering information for free--or, at least, putting payment on hold--then it must be big.

"What is it?"

Crowley laced his fingers together. "There's a new villain in town–"

"Night Spectre. I know."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Old news, love. Her name's Lilith, and that's all I can learn. She's planning something big."

The true name of Asmodeus's assistant was helpful, but the rest he already knew. "If you're only going to give me information I already know–"

"Did you know she has a mole in the D.A.'s office?"

Castiel paused. His surprise must have shown on his face somehow, because Crowley gave a low chuckle.

"Weren't expecting that, were you darling?" Crowley straightened up in his chair, resting his feet on the floor. "You see, Lilith is a part of Asmodeus's group. Old news, I know, but what nobody knows is that Asmodeus doesn't like to do the dirty work himself. He convinces other people to do it for him. The best sort of trick, they believe: get people to destroy themselves."

"What does she want with the D.A.'s office?" Castiel asked.

"Supposedly the leader they want is one of the employees there."

"Who?"

Crowley spread his arms wide. "That's all I know, Angel boy."

Castiel glowered. "You better not be holding out on me, Crowley."

Crowley sighed. "Now, Seraph. What would I get out of a destroyed Gotham? I make deals. I'm a businessman. World destruction is not my area."

"Does Naomi know?" Castiel had yet to talk with her.

Crowley sighed again. "No. She wouldn't know how to handle it, honestly. I hate to say it, but you're the best chance we have."

"I'll take it as a compliment."

"Please don't," Crowley replied.

Castiel grunted and turned to go.

"If anything else turns up, inform me," he said over his shoulder.

"Of course. Because my openness now isn't an indication of my lenience," Crowley replied sarcastically. "I will expect for you to repay me someday. It might be on the behalf of someone else, but it will be repayment."

Castiel should've known the bastard would find a way to keep Naomi out of jail. "You're saying I should let her go?"

"Don't most people get a warning for their first offense?" Crowley replied cheekily.

Castiel restrained himself from punching Crowley's smug face and made his exit. He took his frustrations out on a local meth gang instead, although he sustained a good few hits to the abdomen.

He would have to talk to Gabriel and get some inside intelligence on the D.A.'s office. He needed to find out who the mole was, and who they were planning to use as their puppet.

* * *

Dean's shoulders visibly sagged as he entered what he had dubbed 'the living room,' although Cas insisted it was the second sitting room. It was the only room in the house that had a television and wasn't annoyingly formal. Sure, the other rooms were lovely, but they weren't comfortable.

Cas was sitting on the couch, watching the television. When he saw Dean he stood up, turning it off and making his way over.

"You're on the news," Cas said mildly. "Apparently you caused quite the stir today."

"Trust me, she had it coming. Shurley's sent that little bloodhound to sniff at my heels for the last however many weeks, and she's more annoying than my former neighbor's yippy little Chihuahua," Dean grumbled, wrapping his arms around Cas and burying his face into his shoulder. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of  _Cas_. It was warmth and comfort, but strange and unearthly, all at once, like he smelled fresh earth and sharp ozone, stars and cut wood, at the same time.

"Besides," he continued, talking into Cas's shirt, "The guy deserves a little good PR now and then. You should hear Raphael talk about him--like he isn't worthy to lick the douchebag's shoes. And you should see the beatings he takes. The other night it looked like he could hardly stand upright."

Cas nodded, turning his head so that his stubble scraped Dean's cheek. "I agree with you," he said, starting to take a step back. Dean held on tighter, needing an anchor after the exhausting day he'd had. Cas sucked in a breath.

"You okay?" Dean pulled away, concerned. Once again there was something new shining in Cas's blue eyes. It was like Dean was gazing into a deep ocean. He knew the bottom was there, but he couldn't see it. He wondered if he would ever find what lay in its depths.

"I'm fine. Got cocky and went a few rounds with a guy at the gym. I should've stuck to swimming." Cas grinned, but there was a twinge in the corner of his mouth.

Dean felt a rush of anger for whoever had dared hurt Cas, a rush that was greater than anything he'd felt for Thursday. Even though the goons the vigilante had taken out had intended to kill him, and the guy at the gym probably didn't even know Cas was hurting that much, Dean felt a possessive fury take hold.

Cas must have noticed--he always seemed to read Dean like an illustrated novel--because his face morphed into a stern mask. "I'm fine, Dean. I can handle myself."

"I know." It didn't change how he felt. He couldn't stand to see Cas hurt. "Do you want me to put some ice on it?"

"Already did," Cas replied. "How was the rest of your day? Is Raphael still giving you trouble?"

Dean shook his head. "Oh no. You're not talking to your adopted brother for me--or Michael, for that matter. I can fight my own battles."

"I know," Castiel replied. "I'm just curious. Anything interesting that doesn't involve my stuck-up family?"

"Got a cryptic message from Seraph," Dean replied. He wished he could tell Cas what it had said.

"Top secret, I presume." Cas sat back down on the sofa, waiting for Dean to join him so that they could curl up together. Dean obliged him, tangling their legs and looping his arms around Cas's middle.

"Unfortunately. Did you stop by the Foundation today?"

Cas grimaced. "And NE. I tried to talk to Zachariah, but…"

Dean frowned. "You gotta stand up to that dickhead, Cas. You've said it yourself, he's taking Novak Enterprises in a completely different direction from what your parents wanted. I'm not Sam, I don't know legal stuff, but you said the company was originally set up so that the Novak kids own it, right?"

Cas chuckled. "Basically, yes."

"Gabriel sold you his share, Lucifer's was cut off when he ran away, and Michael and Raphael haven't done anything with theirs in years, right?"

"Well, yes. I now own the most shares in the company, if that's what you're getting at."

"So you can just waltz in there and take it over," Dean announced triumphantly.

Cas looked scandalized.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Cas, you don't have to wait for Zachariah's go-ahead, or anyone else's for that matter. You can take NE and bring it back. Become CEO or appoint a new one. Whatever you want."

"I don't know, Dean…"

The hesitance, the uncertainty, was heartbreaking. Dean cupped the back of Cas's head, bringing their mouths together and licking deep into Cas's mouth.

"You can do it, Cas," he whispered. This was the guy who read the stock exchange like it was a Dick and Jane book, studied sociology books for fun, and stole his heart; Cas could do anything.

"Promise me you'll get what you deserve," Dean ordered. "Because you definitely don't deserve to be miserable and watch your parents' legacy be stripped away."

"I promise." Cas was chuckling, rumbling the words into the hollow of Dean's throat.

 _Victory_ , Dean thought, letting Cas suck a hickey into the side of his neck as he sank deeper into the couch.

"But only if you promise to stand up to Michael. If he makes a pass at you one more time I'll deck him myself." Castiel's voice held a warning note.

Dean sighed. He knew when he was beaten, which with Cas was pretty much always. "I promise."

Cas, pleased, rotated so that they were facing and immediately set about unbuttoning Dean's shirt.

Dean reminded himself to go into work early tomorrow; he had to look up who this Asmodeus guy was. The letter had been brief, saying that the man was a criminal who held a lot of power in Asia, was coming to Gotham in order to destroy it, and would arrive soon. Not much for Dean to go on, in other words. He had a feeling that if he wanted better answers, he was going to have to find them himself.

Damn vigilantes and their cryptic information.

"I thought you were on his side," Cas said, and Dean realized he'd said the last part allowed.

"Doesn't mean he's not allowed to piss me off," Dean grumbled.

"If you're still able to think about work, I'm not doing a good enough job," Cas quipped.

Dean grinned. "Bet you can't make me forget my name."

While Dean might or might not have forgotten his own name, he definitely remembered Cas's. Enough to scream it out, anyway.

* * *

Raphael set down his briefcase on his desk, using his thumb to put in the combination.

"Mr. Novak."

Raphael did not jump, to his credit, but his head did jerk up rather quickly. "How did you get in here?"

"Don't bother reaching for the emergency alert button," Castiel informed the D.A. "It's been temporarily disabled."

"And I presume you've done something with Uriel?"

"Your bodyguard will come to in about half an hour."

Raphael's face would have scared most full-grown men. "What do you want?"

"I want you to let Commissioner Winchester do his job," Castiel growled. "He is my ally, and an attack upon my ally is an attack upon me. And you do not want to attack me."

Raphael snorted. "You've broken more laws than even I can name, vigilante, and you come to lecture me? I can bury you, publicly, any day I want."

"Maybe," Castiel conceded. "But today, you're my little bitch."

He tossed the photo he'd been holding at Raphael, who caught it quickly. Castiel had always known Michael and Raphael had teamed up to operate on the shadier side of the street to help their meteoric rise, but he'd hoped he would never have to turn upon his family like that.

It seemed like Dean Winchester made him break all of his rules.

Raphael stared at the glossy image, showing him meeting with mob boss Carmine Falcone. "How did y–"

He looked up to find an empty room.

* * *

Naomi Garrison, known to most of the world as The Interrogator, surveyed her work. One criminal down permanently, and the other three strung up with the most recognizably male part of their anatomy removed. They wouldn't be fathering any children any time soon, or exploiting more underage female immigrants, either.

"Naomi," a deep voice graveled behind her.

"Seraph," she replied. "I wondered when you would choose to stop by."

"I hoped that you would decide to cease such methods of your own volition," he said. "I see this is not the case."

Naomi turned, her gaze scarily intense even under her mask. "Just what do you intend to do about it?"

"We happen to have a mutual friend who would rather see you on this side of a prison wall," he informed her. "As a debt to that friend, I am issuing a warning."

It was hard to tell, but she appeared to be raising her eyebrows. "I see."

"Do not torture or otherwise unnecessarily harm the criminals you catch. If you ignore this warning–"

"You'll throw me into Blackgate?" She taunted.

"I'll make sure certain terrorist cells know that the CIA's star interrogator is in Gotham City, posing as a vigilante."

Naomi gaped. "You wouldn't dare."

Castiel stepped closer, his jaw clenched. "Try me."

He spread his wings, taking flight before he allowed her a chance to answer.

* * *

"Commissioner."

Dean grit his teeth. "Mayor."

He turned to face the other man, forcing a smile onto his face. You had to give it to him; Michael was a handsome bastard, with a build and facial structure similar to Cas's. But where Cas had those cerulean eyes, Michael's were golden brown like Gabriel's. Still, at least Gabe's eyes held some warmth. Staring at Michael Novak was like seeing Dr. Chill all over again, only without the subzero suit.

"What can I do for you?" He asked.

Michael's eyes raked over Dean's form, as they always did, and Dean repressed the urge to deck the guy. He really just wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, but he'd made a promise to Cas and he was going to keep it.

"Hey." Dean snapped his fingers. "Eyes up here."

Michael looked startled, but in an arrogant way, as if no one had dared to do that before. "I'm sorry?"

"My eyes are up here, Mayor, and you'd better remember it. I ain't a free show."

Michael looked like Dean had slapped him. He doubted that anyone had dared talk to Michael Novak like that in years.

"Of course," the Mayor replied slowly.

"What did you want to see me about?" Dean asked, trying to be professional. Take the high road and all that shit.

"Seraph," Michael stated.

Dean tried to keep his face neutral. "What about him?"

"He needs to be stopped. This vigilante business has gone on long enough. I want you to focus all of your available resources–"

Dean snorted. "Yeah, that's not happening."

Michael visibly bristled. "And why not?"

Dean squared his shoulders. "You've never taken a stand against him before. Why now?" He couldn't resist a grin. "Did he get under your skin?"

There was a lovely tick developing in Michael's jaw. "In a manner of speaking."

Dean grinned wider. "Well, good for him. At least someone around here can stand up to you. Maybe I should follow his example?"

Michael said nothing, but his eyes hardened. Dean decided to go for broke.

"I'm not sending a single one of my men after Seraph. We're stretched tight enough as it is, and I've got intelligence that something big is going down in the next couple of weeks. I'll need all of the resources I've got, and that includes Seraph. He's worth ten detectives, and that's on one of his bad days. And in case you've forgotten, he saved my life. So you can take that idea of ridding the city of its number one protector and shove it up that tight ass of yours. Understood, Mayor?"

Michael stood so stiffly he might have been made of stone. "Understood, Commissioner."

The Mayor turned and walked briskly out of the room, running straight into someone in the hall. Dean heard a familiar rumbling voice and grinned again. He heard Michael say something about "your boyfriend," and then Cas was entering the office, shutting the door behind him.

"I don't think I'll be getting a lot of house calls anymore," Dean informed him.

Cas favored him with a lip-twitch. "I gathered as much. He acknowledged that we are in a relationship, for one."

"That means I can do this, right?" Dean moved forward, using his arms to encircle Cas's waist and pull the man flush against him, nuzzling into the crook of Cas's neck.

"Dean," Cas chastised. "You're at work."

"And I'm the boss," Dean reminded him happily. He decided that just smelling Cas wasn't enough, and that he needed to taste him, too.

"Dean," Cas repeated sharply. Dean continued sucking on Cas's pulse point. "We need to talk."

Dean pulled back so fast he almost got whiplash, the air sucked out of his lungs like a vacuum. Cas chuckled, running soothing hands up and down his back. "Not like that, babe."

Dean glared at him. "Don't scare me like that."

Cas merely chuckled again, pecking Dean on the lips. "I'm going to talk to Zachariah today…"

"Good," Dean said.

"…And I need you to come with me."

Dean stared. "What?"

"You don't have to say anything," Cas said hastily. "I just need you there."

Dean frowned. Cas looked… well, Dean wouldn't have believed it unless he saw it, but Cas looked scared.

"Okay, Cas." Dean ran his hands up and down Cas's arms. "Okay."

Cas broke out in one of those wide, beautiful smiles, his entire face lighting up. Dean felt himself helplessly grin back, swept up in the love he could feel radiating from Cas. Such full-blown smiles from Cas were still rare, but Dean was coaxing more and more of them out of him, and he was hopeful that someday they'd make regular appearances.

"All right," he said. "Let's go piss off another person in charge."

* * *

Castiel clenched and unclenched his fist, feeling the skin strain and the muscles ache. The bruising on his knuckles had faded enough that he didn't have to wear makeup to cover it up anymore, but his hands were still a little sore. Next to him, Dean was staring in fascination at the television inside of the elevator, having already spent half a minute gaping at the slot where everyone had to insert their keycards in order to activate the elevator.

Castiel wasn't entirely sure where the desire to have Dean with him had come from. Perhaps it was because he'd already dealt with Naomi, Crowley, and his own brother Raphael on his own, and he wanted some backup for this one. Maybe it was because he hadn't gotten any sleep last night between patrolling and discussing Lucifer with Balthazar (how they would deal with him, how they would stop Michael from murdering him or vice versa, how Dean was going to react because there was no way the two would like each other).

Or it could have been the fact that Dean had stood up for Castiel. Dean supported Seraph's actions, and he'd encouraged Castiel to stand up for himself. As a masked vigilante, Castiel had done plenty of standing up to bullies, so to speak. But Castiel Novak had never spoken up for himself in his entire life. Even as Seraph he only spoke up on behalf of innocents.

But Dean… Dean was different. Dean looked at Castiel like he was something valuable, something to be treasured and fought for. He listened when Castiel talked and took interest in what he had to say, even though Dean didn't understand physics or the Dutch Renaissance and never would. Dean believed in Castiel, had faith and trust in him. He dared Castiel to go after what he wanted, to take charge and seize what was rightfully his. Not even Anna or Balthazar had done that, preferring to let Castiel take the lead and following after. Dean took Castiel by the hand and dragged him forward into the whirlwind, full of exuberance and joy.

Everyone believed in Seraph, but Dean believed in Castiel.

It made Castiel want to believe in himself.

The elevator doors opened silently and Castiel strode up to the secretary's desk. He hoped she wouldn't get in trouble for this.

"Please inform Mr. Adler that I am here to see him," Castiel told her.

Dean's presence at his back was warm and soothing, like a welcoming fire in the hearth.

The secretary pressed a button and informed Mr. Adler that Mr. Novak--the other one, no, yes, that one--was there to see him.

They entered the crisp white office, sparsely decorated, to find Zachariah lounging in his office chair.

"What can I help you with, Castiel?" He asked, his voice and manner stiff. "I was just about to have a board meeting."

Castiel swallowed. This was his father's most trusted board member, and a part of him felt like he was betraying his father by doing this. But he knew that his father wouldn't have agreed with the decisions Zachariah was making, or how the company was being run.

"That's perfect timing," Castiel replied. "Seeing as I will be taking over as CEO."

Zachariah appeared to be choking on his own saliva. "What?"

Castiel nodded, feeling Dean lightly press his hand to the small of his back. "I have a few legal documents here…" He tapped his briefcase. "That will explain it all in much more technical terms but the short version is that as the majority shareholder, I have the power to replace you. I am doing just that."

"But… the board will never go for this!" Zachariah replied snidely, standing up.

"They don't have to. I'm replacing them as well."

"With whom?"

"You might know Hester, the CFO from the Foundation," Castiel said mildly. "And Kevin Tran, head of the Applied Science Division?"

Zachariah's eyes narrowed. "That pup is still wet behind the ears, barely out of high school."

"He's also a certified genius with twice the morals of the entire board," Castiel replied, keeping his voice neutral. "I think the two of them will be enough to start while I contact some of Father's former associates. I notice that you replaced many of them after his death."

Zachariah's voice was cutting and cold. "You can't do this."

Castiel crossed the room, opening the office door in a clear invitation. "Actually, I can."

The secretary stared as Zachariah marched out of his office, his neck red with anger. Castiel followed a short way to ensure that he got onto the elevator. The secretary turned a questioning gaze towards Dean and Castiel.

"Meet the new boss," Dean quipped.

* * *

Charlie heard the distinctive sound of Anna's boots as the vigilante made her way down the steps into the cave. "He's not here," she called.

"Who? Castiel?" Anna replied.

"Yes." Charlie spun around in her chair. "He's with Dean upstairs."

Anna smiled and Charlie felt her face heating up. Anna really was beautiful. "Good. That's… that's really good, Charlie."

The two shared a smile. Castiel's mood had greatly improved ever since he and Dean had started dating, and even during patrol he was more relaxed. He'd even chuckled at one of Charlie's jokes the other day.

Charlie twisted her fingers around one another. "So… so how are you doing?" She asked. Getting dinner before patrol had become a regular thing but nothing more had happened between them, and Charlie's stomach was a mass of tight knots.

"I'm okay," Anna said cautiously. "Actually… I was hoping to catch you alone."

Charlie sucked in a breath, then nodded. Anna took a few steps towards her.

"I've been trying to talk to you for a week but… but someone else was always there and this is embarrassing enough without there being a witness," Anna explained.

The knots in Charlie's stomach congealed into a heavy lump of cement. "You don't have to explain," she said. She hoped she didn't sound too miserable. "I know what this is about."

Anna froze, a foot away from Charlie's chair. "You do?"

Charlie nodded. "I'm sorry that I made you uncomfortable, Anna, I really am. It's just… I mean have you  _seen_  you? Not to mention you kick butt at Dragon Age 2, you play Dungeons & Dragons, you know how to  _belly dance_  for Vulcan's sake!" Charlie threw her hands up to emphasize her point. "I don't know what you'd want with a hopeless hacker geek like me, and I understand, I really do, and if you want me to stop coming to the cave for a while that's okay too, I mean I can hook up the feed from anywhere and–"

"Charlie?"

"Yes?"

Anna was frowning slightly, biting her bottom lip. "What are you getting at?"

Charlie frowned as well. "Um, you realized I have a massive crush on you and you don't feel the same way but you value our friendship and I'm a great person and you're really sorry but it's time to let me down gently?"

Anna lifted up an eyebrow. "You seem to have worked this whole thing out."

Charlie shrugged. "I've gotten the speech a few times before. It's the same old script."

Anna laughed gently. "And here I thought I was going to be the awkward one."

Charlie grinned. "Glad I can help with that."

Still laughing, Anna closed the gap between them, seating herself in Charlie's lap, her legs straddling the hacker. Their pelvises were flush together and their faces were an inch apart and Anna's lips were shiny and glossy and where had all the room in the air gone because Charlie found she really couldn't breathe.

"Charlie Bradbury, I've liked you since you plopped down in this chair and informed me why  _Star Trek_  was better than  _Star Wars_ ," Anna informed her.

"What?" Charlie replied.

Anna laughed again. "Let's just say I have a massive crush on you too and might have spent a great deal of time wondering if I'd ever get to see that Dungeons & Dragons tattoo you've got somewhere on your person."

"What?" Charlie repeated. Her voice was much quieter now, barely a whisper.

Anna leaned forward, and Charlie quickly discovered that Anna's lips were as soft as they looked, she tasted like peppermint, and she gave tiny little moans when Charlie's hands squeezed her hips.

It took a minute for Charlie to realize what that annoying ringing sound was, because Anna had a wicked tongue and Charlie had no intention of letting either of them leave that chair any time soon, but then she realized that the ringing was, in fact, the phone, and it was probably important.

"Fucking Balthazar," Charlie muttered as Anna reached over to grab the phone.

Anna placed a finger on Charlie's lips to silence her, which was hot on several different levels. "Hey, Baz."

There was a pause, and her eyes widened. "What? Here? Now?"

Charlie occupied herself with sucking on the tip of Anna's finger, which made Anna's pupils dilate alarmingly quickly.

"Look, Baz, I'm kind of in the middle of something. Can't Castiel deal with it?" Anna asked.

Balthazar replied, and Anna's eyes narrowed. "I was eight when I last saw him, Baz."

Charlie wondered whom Anna could possibly be talking about.

Anna sighed. "Okay, fine, yes. I'm coming."

"Not yet you're not," Charlie couldn't help but add.

Anna hung up, mock glaring at Charlie. "You and your," Anna waved a hand at Charlie's body, "Are not helping."

"Sorry, baby," Charlie replied with a smirk. She then clapped her hand over her mouth. The endearment had slipped out before she could stop it.

Anna laughed. "C'mon,  _baby_ ," she said. "You're going to meet my second-oldest cousin."

"Who?" Charlie asked as Anna yanked her into a standing position.

"Lucifer. Now c'mon--the sooner we deal with him, the sooner I can strip that  _Bring Back Firefly_  shirt off of you."

Charlie grinned. Long-lost cousin or not, this was turning into a great day.


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel could hear voices as he entered the manor with Dean, shucking their coats as they did so. The November wind was biting, and snow would be on the ground before long.

"You expecting anyone?" Dean asked.

Castiel shook his head. Following the sound of voices, they made their way into the main living room, one that Castiel hadn't used--or seen used--in years.

The sight that greeted him when they entered brought him up short, causing Dean to nearly collide into him. He instinctively sought out Dean's hand, interlinking their fingers and gripping tightly. Dean rubbed his thumb in soothing circles in the skin on the back of Cas's hand.

Anna was sitting in one of the couches, Charlie at her side. Anna was leaning slightly into Charlie and they were holding hands, something Castiel filed away to congratulate them on later. Balthazar was hovering a little to the side, his face blank and stoic--never a good sign. And sitting in the couch opposite to Charlie and Anna…

"Hello, baby brother."

Castiel's organs froze over, turning into thin, breakable ice.

"Hello, Lucifer," he replied.

Lucifer hadn't gotten too much taller and had stayed slim, but his face was definitely older. His sandy hair was unkempt and his light blue eyes were crinkled, dark, and unreadable.

Dean took a tiny step closer, his warm, strong body pressing into Castiel's side, anchoring him. Castiel drew a deep breath. "I thought you weren't going to be in town for another week."

Lucifer shrugged. "I sped up my arrival. Business, you know."

There was movement, and Castiel realized that Lucifer wasn't alone. Curled up in his lap--and currently in the process of stretching--was a gorgeous blonde. Her honeyed hair was in loose ringlets, framing her wide cheekbones. Her eyes were a deep, snapping blue, darker than Lucifer's in color but matching in their strange intensity.

"Ah, yes. Castiel, this is Lilith," Lucifer started to introduce them.

"The paramour," Lilith finished. "Castiel. I've heard a lot about you." Lilith smiled, standing up and offering her hand.

"I wish I could say the same," Castiel replied, shaking her hand. Her grip was unnaturally strong. Castiel knew he'd seen that smile before.

"And who is this?" Lilith asked, turning to Dean.

"Dean Winchester. The other paramour," Dean joked.

Castiel elbowed him in the ribs, and Dean winced.

"Charming," Lilith replied.

"Winchester? As in the new Police Commissioner?" Lucifer asked as Lilith returned to curl into his side again. Castiel noted she was wearing a white dress, rather reminiscent of a nightgown.

And then it clicked.

_Her real name is Lilith…_

The only glimpses that security cameras and witnesses had gotten of Night Spectre showed a woman, hair and lower half of her face hidden behind a white scarf, her eyes white and pupil-less, wearing a white dress.

This was Night Spectre. This was Asmodeus's second-in-command.

Which made Lucifer…

Castiel didn't want to entertain the idea. This was his brother, the one that used to follow Michael around like a puppy, the one that taught Gabriel pranks and played Tickle Monster with Anna. For all the lost years and disastrous goodbye, for all the hateful words spoken, Lucifer was still family.

"You okay?" Dean leaned in, his voice low in Castiel's ear.

"We'll talk later," Cas informed him. Dean gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

If Lucifer was out to destroy Gotham, then there was no avoiding it. He needed to talk to Dean.

"I was just telling Anna about my travels," Lucifer said, slipping an arm around Lilith's waist. "I backpacked for a while, you know, got to see the world a bit."

"And I was just going to inform everyone that dinner is ready," Balthazar added pointedly. Castiel winced inwardly. Baz had never forgiven Michael or Lucifer for what they'd put Castiel and Anna through.

"Actually I'm afraid we'll have to decline," Lucifer said. "We have a dinner reservation in the city with some of my business associates."

Castiel made a mental note to monitor that dinner. He'd have to talk to Charlie.

"Sorry to run," Lucifer apologized. "We'll have to do lunch, the six of us."

"What about the others?" Anna asked challengingly.

"Of course," Lucifer smiled. "If they want to come. I have a feeling they won't be interested in seeing me."

Castiel wasn't sure if he agreed with that statement or not.

"It was lovely to meet you all," Lilith said as they swept out.

And then they were gone.

"What was that about?" Charlie asked.

"Something," Balthazar declared. "He was always a calculating bastard."

"Baz," Castiel chastised. He gave Anna a significant look, and she inclined her head in acknowledgment. They'd have to discuss this later.

Right now, he had to figure out the best way to tell Dean the truth.

* * *

Between Anna and Charlie admitting their epic geeky redheaded love, Balthazar arguing that Lucifer should be avoided at all costs, and fielding phone calls from all three of the other Novak brothers (including a lecture from Gabriel about how Dean better treat Cas right or he was going to lose a favorite part of his anatomy), they didn't get a moment alone until it was time for bed.

"What the hell was all that about?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," Cas answered truthfully.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was here to scout us out," Dean noted, peeling off his shirt.

"Yes…" Cas muttered.

Dean frowned. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, Dean. It's simply unnerving."

Cas did look exhausted. It had been a long day, with first Zachariah and now Lucifer. Dean made his way across the bedroom, batting Cas's hands out of the way to undo the buttons on his dress shirt.

"Lemme take care of you," Dean murmured, their foreheads brushing as he worked the shirt off of Cas.

The next few minutes passed in silence as Dean helped Cas into bed, tucking the covers in around them like a cocoon. Cas laid his head on Dean's chest, splayed on top of him like the octopus he was. He chuckled.

"Tired, babe?"

Cas grumbled incoherently. Dean sank back into the covers, tracing the lines of the feathers in Cas's tattoo.

"Dean?"

"Hmm?"

Cas sat up, leaning on his side, spearing his fingers in Dean's hair and combing them through. Dean practically purred, going boneless as Cas massaged his scalp. Damn bastard knew exactly how to turn Dean into a pile of goo.

"I was thinking…" Cas spoke slowly, carefully. "That we could have a nice dinner tomorrow."

"How nice?" Dean asked.

"D'Annunzio's," Cas answered.

Dean snorted. "Like I'd fit in there."

"Who cares about fitting in?" Cas argued. He gave Dean's hair a little tug, forcing Dean to face him. "I want to take my sexy ass boyfriend out on a nice date. I don't care if you wear jeans and one of your t-shirts with motor oil on it."

Dean grinned. "All right then," he replied.

Cas's smile was small, but definitely there. He leaned down and kissed him, softly. "Thank you."

"For what?" Dean asked.

"Everything," Cas answered sleepily, settling back down to curl around Dean.

Dean sighed contentedly. Sure, Cas's missing older brother was back and ready to add to the general douchebaggery that was Cas's family (save Anna), there was a huge war criminal on his way to destroy Gotham, and Michael was going to get him back for the little stunt he'd pulled but for now, Dean couldn't give a rat's ass. He had Cas, warm and safe, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

Sam fumbled with the papers in his hand, trying to hold them, unlock his office door, and answer the ringing phone in his pocket at the same time. He saw the caller ID and pressed 'talk' with relief. It wasn't like Ruby to be late, especially today. They'd scheduled time to go down to Arkham and talk to Meg about the wedding. Sam had to admit; he was a little nervous about meeting her.

"Hey honey. Where are–"

"Sam?" Ruby was whispering, and her voice was trembling. "Sam, you have to call the police!"

"What?" Sam set the papers down. Not Evil Eye. Not again, not after Jess and Madison…

"There's someone in the apartment," Ruby whispered frantically. "A woman dressed in… it looks like some kind of white dress. I can't see her face but her eyes… her eyes, Sam, they're white! They're--there's no pupils it's just blank-"

"Ssh, it's okay," Sam soothed her. "I'm going to call the police. Where are you?"

"In the closet," Ruby replied.

"Okay. Just stay there, all right. Just stay there and I'll–"

There was a muffled sound, and then Ruby began screaming.

"No! No, stop! Let me–-Sam! Sam!" Ruby shrieked frantically, her voice becoming fainter and fainter as she was dragged away from the phone.

"Ruby? Ruby!" Sam shouted into the phone. A moment later he heard breathing on the other end.

"Oh, thank God. Ruby, listen, you need to–"

"Guess again, handsome." The woman speaking had a sultry voice, soft but commanding.

"What have you done with her?" Sam demanded.

"Nothing… yet." The woman replied, laughing softly. "That's a very lovely girl you've got her, prosecutor."

"Let her go."

"Not just yet." The woman was all business now. "If you want her, you'll have to come and get her." She gave him an address. "And you'd better hurry, hotshot. Time's ticking."

The line went dead.

Sam ran out the door, calling Dean as he did so. "C'mon, c'mon…" He muttered.

"Hello?"

"Cas?" Sam frowned. "Is Dean there?"

"He left his cell at home this morning by accident. You could call his office."

"I don't have time for that.

"Sam…" Cas sounded concerned. "Is something wrong?"

Sam hurried down the steps to the parking garage. "It's Ruby--she's been abducted by a woman wearing white with pupil-less eyes. Tell Dean, I think she's that new criminal, Night Spook or something."

"Night Spectre?"

"Yeah, that's it." Sam unlocked his car and slid into the driver's seat. "Just ring him up and tell him to get on it. They're at this address." Sam gave it to him. "You got all of that?"

"Sure thing," Cas replied. "But, Sam…"

Sam started the engine.

"You're not going after her yourself, are you?"

"I lost two people already, Cas. I'm not losing another."

"Sam." Cas's voice changed, becoming deeper and more commanding. "Sam Winchester, stop right now. You don't–"

Sam hung up, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat.

"Just hang on, Ruby," he whispered.

He had to get to her in time.

* * *

Castiel hurriedly put on his suit as Balthazar walked down the steps into the cave. "What are you doing going on patrol so early?"

"It's Sam," Castiel snapped.

Balthazar looked confused.

"The agent, Baz. The person Asmodeus is going to use to destroy Gotham. It's Sam Winchester."

"How do you know?"

Castiel slipped on his gloves. "Ruby's been captured by Lilith. She's the mole in the D.A.'s office, and now she's faked a kidnapping to lure Sam to Asmodeus."

"Wait." Balthazar frowned. "You said Lilith…"

"Lilith is Night Spectre," Castiel informed him. "Asmodeus is–"

"Lucifer." Balthazar finished the sentence for him.

Castiel nodded. As painful as it was, he had to stop his own brother.

"I'm sorry." Balthazar's voice was quiet.

"As am I." Castiel finished putting on his boots. "But there's no time to lose. Inform Dean of what's happened--I tried calling the office but he'd already left for the day."

"You know he'll rush headlong into it if Sam is in danger," Balthazar warned.

Castiel nodded, his thoughts turning for a moment to the dinner they'd planned. "I know."

He climbed into the Wingmobile. "It means I have to wrap things up before he gets there."

"This is Lucifer we're talking about, Castiel," Balthazar said. "He was always annoyingly cunning, and he won't go down without a fight."

"I know."

"You might not get out of this one."

Castiel thought of Dean, with his bright green eyes, easy smile and warm embrace. "I will."  _I have to._

The car roared to life, and he sped off.

* * *

Dean locked the Impala and headed up the steps towards the house, pulling out the key to unlock it. He remembered how his hands had shaken when he'd first used the key, the significance of what Cas had given him turning his legs and stomach into mush.

Before he could get the key into the lock, however, the door opened. It was Balthazar, and the butler looked positively shaken up.

"Hey, Balthazar," Dean said slowly. "What's wrong?"

"It's your brother, Sam," Balthazar explained.

Dean froze. "What happened."

"His fiancée Ruby was taken by a rogue known as Night Spectre," Balthazar explained. "Sam called your cellphone but you left it at home. Master Novak answered it and despite his best protestations…"

Dean knew what Balthazar was going to say before the butler even drew breath to speak.

"He went after her," Balthazar finished.

Dean gripped the keys in his hand so tightly he could feel the metal cutting into his flesh. "Where's Cas?"

Balthazar looked startled. "Why would that be a concern?"

"Because I gotta tell him I have to cancel our date."

"I'm sure Master Novak has already assumed as much," Balthazar protested.

"Doesn't matter," Dean responded. "I have to tell him myself."

"Master Winchester…" Balthazar looked pained. "Master Novak is not at home."

Dean frowned. "Why not?"

"He tried calling your office but you didn't answer, so he assumed you had already left work for the day and he…" Balthazar trailed off.

"Never mind," Dean said, turning to go. Sammy's life was in danger.

"If it's any consolation, I heard reports of Seraph in the area where Sam Winchester was headed."

Dean nodded. "Great. In the meantime when you contact Cas, just tell him–"

Dean froze. Slowly he pivoted, gazing at Balthazar. "It's him."

Balthazar frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"It's him," Dean repeated more firmly.  _Christ_  he was an idiot. He should've seen it from the beginning. It wasn't like the evidence hadn't been there--in fact, it had been staring him in the face.

"The bruises? The slipping away in the middle of the night? The knowledge of Gotham's underworld? The tattoo? The… the  _everything_? It's him." He was talking more to himself than Balthazar at this point, but the butler's expression was all the answer he needed anyway.

It all made sense. The strange feeling of familiarity he got around both Thursday and Cas, the way Cas seemed to know so much about Dean, that sense that Cas was holding something back, hiding a part of himself… that look in his eyes…

"Anna knows." It wasn't a question. "Is she here?"

Balthazar cleared his throat. "She's indisposed at the moment."

It clicked then, too. "She's Valkyrie, isn't she?" Pieces were falling into place so rapidly it made him dizzy. "And Charlie… that's how they know each other. Charlie's Pythia, of course, she's the only fucking person that could take down Ash…"

The sucker punch was that he knew these people. He knew all of them, intimately. Charlie was his little not-sister. Anna had been his friend for years. And Cas…

It hurt. It hurt to know that he'd been lied to, that Cas--trusting, open, terrible at lying  _Cas_ \--had kept something so big hidden from him. But there was also an immense release, a freeing joy, blossoming in his chest as he realized he'd been harboring an inappropriate crush on  _his boyfriend_.

Well, that took care of one problem.

Now for the other one.

"Do you know when he'll be back?" Dean asked.

"I'm afraid I don't know," Balthazar admitted. "He usually gets back around two a.m. but sometimes later, depending upon the night."

"Gotcha." Dean turned away again. "We'll talk after we get Sam back."

"Master Winchester," Balthazar intervened. "Recently… on certain nights, Master Novak has returned closer to midnight."

Dean frowned. "Certain nights?"

Balthazar looked exasperated. "Ever since you have moved in," he clarified.

Dean tried to fight the warmth in his chest and failed miserably.

"I have known Castiel since we were children," Balthazar confided. Dean realized it was the first time he had heard the butler use Cas's first name. "After his parents' death… a part of him died. Something inside of him shriveled up, replaced with this… this cold, hard thing. Anna and I have done our best, as did my father when he was alive, but Castiel has ever remained focused on his mission.

"Since meeting you, he has…" Balthazar looked both hopeful and pained. "I have seen the part of him that died come to life again. Anna and I have dared to hope that he might start to see life as more than a mission, and himself as more than a protector. That he might accept he has the same needs as any other person. You have done more with him in two months than we have in years."

Dean felt warmth spread throughout his chest.

"I don't understand it," Balthazar went on, "But somehow there was a hole in his life that only you could fill. I don't think he even realized how lost or detached he was until he met you."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Dean asked. "You barely even like me."

"Because Castiel is my best friend, and it is my duty to care for him. He needs you, Dean Winchester. As, I suspect, you need him. He is terrified of how you'll take the news of his alternate identity and I'll be damned if I see him lose another person that he loves."

Dean glared. "If you think I'm going to give up on the best damn thing that's happened to me because he decided to be a hero and save the city, then you don't know me. The guy fucking saved my life and you think I'd blow him off?"

Dean itched to touch the tattoo on his left shoulder, the reminder of Thursday--no,  _Cas_ \--gripping him tight and raising him from Perdition. He'd have died in that hellhole if it weren't for Seraph, and now his savior turned out to be the supportive, intelligent, drop-dead gorgeous guy who's house he was living in?

Yeah. Like Hell he was giving up on that.

Dean hurried down the drive.

"Where are you going?" Balthazar demanded.

"You think I'm going to let him rescue my baby brother alone?" Dean called over his shoulder.

If whatever bitch took Ruby dared to hurt either his brother or his lover, Dean was going to break his no-hitting-girls rule and gank her to kingdom come.

* * *

Sam stepped into the empty ground floor of the condemned building. Several oil drums and construction equipment were scattered about, but the place was eerily silent.

Crouching down, he made he way across the room, towards the one tiny source of light right in the center. Peering around a forklift, what he saw punched the air out of his lungs.

Ruby was sitting directly underneath a hanging light bulb, tied to a chair with her hands behind her. Her head hung down, her brunette hair falling like a curtain and shielding her face from view. Her outfit was torn and there were scrapes on her knees, and her shoes were missing.

Without thinking, Sam darted across the space towards her. He reached out, his fingers brushing her arm, and she jumped, shying away.

"Shh, baby, it's me," he whispered. He crouched down, using his fingers to lift her chin up.

Ruby looked up, their faces at eyelevel. There was a bruise forming just above her right eye, and she looked terrified. "Sam?"

"Yeah." Sam smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "It's okay, hon. I'm going to get you out of here."

Ruby started sobbing. "I was so scared, Sam, and she wouldn't tell me anything, and, and…"

"It's okay. I'm here now." He kissed her forehead, soothing her. "Let's just get these knots untied and we'll be out of here. It's all going to be okay."

"Sure it will," a voice crooned. "You just sit tight, baby. It'll all be over soon."

Sam turned and saw a blonde woman standing there. She wore a white dress, her hair flowing free. Her face was beautiful but it was impossible to really notice because of her stark, white eyes. They were singularly unnerving.

"Who are you?"

"I go by many names, but I prefer Lilith," the woman responded. "And you are Samuel Winchester."

Sam frowned. "Why do you care? Why am I here?"

"Because you are the chosen one," Ruby answered.

Sam spun around, shocked. "What?"

Ruby's tears had dried, her face holding a look of wondrous rapture. "You are the chosen one, Sam, the one who will lead the cleansing of Gotham!"

Sam, horrified, took a step back. "What is this? What cleansing?"

"Gotham is rotting." Lilith moved towards him, eying him like prey. "It is broken and soulless, and it is our job to set things to rights."

"Alexander the Great, Rome, the Ottomans, England… all great empires go to rot and ruin. We cleanse them, like a forest fire, and allow people to start anew." Ruby smiled at him, tears of joy standing in her eyes. "And you are the one that will start it! Sam, you have such a great destiny before you… such a great future, for you, for us!"

"I'm not taking part in this," Sam retorted. "Ruby, what has gotten into you?"

"Oh, did you not realize?" Lilith's smile reminded Sam of a serpent. "Ruby is one of us. My disciple." She smiled maternally at Ruby, who bowed her head respectfully.

"I can't believe this," Sam breathed. "You? You… you lied to me? This entire time?"

"Not about us," Ruby protested. "I love you Sam, I do, and we're meant to be together in this new world. All you have to do is join with Asmodeus, may he reign forever!"

"May he reign forever," Lilith intoned.

"Look, I don't care who this Asmodeus is, and I don't care if you think what you're doing is right." Sam glared at both of them. "I'm not helping to destroy a city full of innocent people."

"But are they innocent?" Lilith asked. "Our agents have spent months infiltrating the city. They have seen how twisted people are, how easily they partake of the forbidden fruit. They go down the gently sloping path with smiles of joy upon their faces."

"Maybe if you weren't tempting them they wouldn't be so corrupt!" Sam snapped. "There are plenty of good, innocent people in this city. I'm not helping you hurt them."

"But, Sam–" Ruby's protestations were cut off by Lilith hushing sounds.

"Our leader will be here soon, my daughter," Lilith crooned soothingly. "He will show Sam the true path."

Sam snorted. "Fat chance of that."

"I'll show you some respect–"

"Silence."

Both Lilith and Sam turned towards the new voice that filled the room. A man stepped out of the shadows, wearing a crisp white suit. He was definitely shorter than Sam, with scruffy blonde hair and a weather beaten face, and he looked far more relaxed than the setting would suggest.

Sam frowned. There was something familiar about the man, but he couldn't quite place it. It wasn't like he'd seen the person before--more like he was being reminded of someone else but couldn't remember.

"I'm guessing you're Asmodeus," Sam said, shifting his stance. If he had to fight his way out of this, so be it.

"Call me Lucifer," the man replied.

Sam's analysis of possible exit paths screeched to a halt. "Lucifer?" He gaped. "As in, Cas and Gabe's missing brother?"

Now that he'd heard the name, there was no mistaking him. Lucifer had Gabe's height and chin, and of course the blonde hair. But Lucifer's blue eyes were lighter and colder than Cas's, and while he appeared earnest much like the youngest Novak, and as relaxed as Gabe, there was a definite feeling of  _wrong_  about him, like he'd taken those good qualities from his brothers and twisted them, perverted them.

"Ah, yes." Lucifer nodded. "I spoke with Castiel only a few hours ago. He's dating your brother, isn't he?"

"Dean," Sam ground out, clenching his jaw.

"Yes. He's quite the guard dog." Lucifer made an expression that could work as either a grin or a grimace. His manner reminded Sam of Gabriel--that teasing, trickster kind of quality, only darker and harsher. "Michael and Raphael are choosing to ignore my existence for now but I'm sure Gabriel will get in touch any minute. He never could leave well enough alone that way. Oh, I'm sorry--would you like something to drink? Sit down, maybe?"

Sam was a bit taken aback at the change in tactics. "No, thanks," he replied.

Lucifer shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Sam's mind raced. He couldn't take on both Lilith and Lucifer, and while he could probably outrun them he didn't know the area very well, and who knew how many henchmen Lucifer might have waiting nearby? Dean knew where he was, though. He was probably already on his way right now, the entire Gotham police department in tow. If Sam could keep Lucifer distracted and talking for long enough, he could buy himself time until Dean got there.

"So you're Asmodeus," Sam said. "And you're here to destroy Gotham. Why?"

"It's infested with sin," Lucifer replied. He sounded delighted. "We have to purge humanity and rebuild. The corporations and politicians of today, asking us to bow before them, and these lowly criminals and sinners rushing about like frantic ants--we are higher than they, and we must raise them up. We must destroy in order to create."

Sam's disgust must have shown on his face, because Lucifer clucked his tongue in disappointment.

"He'll come around," Ruby protested hastily. "Won't you, Sam?" She looked so open and desperate that Sam's heart clenched. He couldn't believe that she'd betrayed him and led him on, but he still loved her. He hated seeing her in distress.

Sam crouched down so that he was eyelevel with her. "I'm not doing anything he says, Ruby," he explained. "I don't know what he's promised you but it's not worth it. We're going to get out of here and we're going to get you help, okay?"

"But, Sam… that's not how it works. This is the truth, the only way!" Ruby looked heartbroken. "Please, Sam. I love you, and–"

Sam stared. "And what if I wasn't the chosen one?" He demanded. "Would you still love me then?"

Ruby's mouth opened and closed.

"Did you ever really love me?" Sam stood up. "Or were you just in love with my position, with what I'm supposedly capable of?"

"Now, Sammy," Lucifer cut in. "It's all right if I call you Sammy, of course? I think you're getting distracted."

"Distracted from what?" Sam turned to him, gesturing towards Ruby. "My fiancé is marrying me because I'm apparently important to some cult that I don't even know about. I'd say that's something I need to take care of."

"Then allow me to 'take care of' things for you," Lucifer said, stepping forwards.

He flicked his wrist--Sam hadn't even realized Lucifer had been holding a bottle--and Ruby's face became coated in some kind of liquid. Ruby spluttered, shaking her head to get the liquid off, clearly confused.

"So many jokes about love and flames… it's so hard to choose…" Lucifer said drolly, pulling a lighter out of his pocket.

Sam started forwards. "What are you–"

Quick as a snake Lucifer darted towards Ruby with the lighter, and Sam realized what the liquid was:

Oil.

Ruby screamed as half of her face was suddenly ablaze, twisting and writhing in the chair as she threw her head from side to side. Sam lunged towards her but Lucifer stepped calmly in between.

"There's no way to save her," he said, calmly. Drawing a gun out of his pocket, he held it out to Sam. "End her misery, Sammy."

Ruby kept screaming, but Sam didn't take the offered weapon. His eyes darted around, searching for a way to help her.

About ten feet away was a broken pipe jutting downwards from the ceiling, a steady trickle of water pouring down onto the cement floor.

Sam made a dash for it, tearing off his shirt as he did so. Lucifer made a gesture at Lilith, who immediately chased after Sam. Sam held his shirt under the water, soaking it, before turning to head back.

Lilith gave him a punch to the jaw that sent him reeling. "Don't resist, Sam," she warned.

Sam tried to dodge and get around her, but she had a knife on him.

"Let me help her!" Sam demanded.

"Over my dead body," Lilith replied.

Ruby's screams echoed in his ears. Her writhing caused her chair to tip over, leaving her twitching and gasping on the floor. She didn't have much time.

"What are you going to do about it, Sam?" Lucifer's voice taunted him.

Sam feinted to the left, causing Lilith to lunge with the knife. Sam bolted to the right, turning and flinging his wet shirt around her neck, twisting it. Lilith dropped the knife and tried to get the impromptu noose off of her, gasping and clutching at the wet fabric, her fingers slipping as the water was wrung out of it. Sam kept up the pressure, planting his foot into the middle of her back and pushing, pushing, pushing…

If Sam had been asked that morning what the sound of a neck snapping was, he would have said muffled lightning. But if asked after that moment, he would have said that it sounded like a twig snapping, only heard from very, very far away--a sound so commonplace and quiet that the listener is unsure if he heard it properly.

Lilith fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. To his infinite shame Sam didn't pause for even a second; he bent down and retrieved the wrung-out shirt, sprinting over to Ruby. To his surprise Lucifer simply stepped aside, letting Sam smother Ruby's face with the cloth, pressing down until the cloth was no longer warm and Ruby had stopped screaming.

Sam removed his shirt, destroyed beyond all hope of being worn again, and gently cupped the side of Ruby's face that had not been burned. Half of her face was now mutilated, her eye staring dully out of its socket, her teeth stark white and gleaming against the charred skin, the flesh burnt almost to the bone.

"Ruby?" He asked. "Ruby, look at me. Say something, anything."

"You… bastard," Ruby panted. "You bastard!"

She staggered to her feet, glaring hatefully at Sam.

"You should have said yes!" She shrieked. "If you'd just said yes… if you hadn't been so fucking difficult!"

"Ruby–"

"Don't call me that," Ruby snapped. "Don't you ever speak to me again, you piece of demonspawn!"

"Now, Sammy, look what happens when you go against your destiny," Lucifer drawled.

Sam whirled on him. "Don't you even think of–"

Lucifer punched him, and Sam felt blood gush from his nose.

"That's for killing my lieutenant," Lucifer explained. It was as if Ruby wasn't even there, his attention focused solely on Sam. "And  _this–_ "

Sam fell, banging his head hard on the concrete floor. Looking up in a daze, he found himself pinned to the ground by a rather large something, a hand pressed into his chest to keep him down as a dark figure loomed over him, wings spread to shield him from harm.

"What the…?"

Seraph--the masked vigilante--was literally covering Sam's body with his own and glaring angrily at Lucifer with such vehemence that Sam was surprised the guy didn't burn to a crisp.

No wonder Dean couldn't shut up about the guy.

To Sam's shock, Lucifer unfurled his own set of wings. But these were anything but beautiful. They were a perversion, a charred, skeletal mockery of what wings should be. They splayed out on either side of him, ash and smoke and pale, sickly bone, glowing with a dark fire like dying coals.

There was as distinctive squeal of tires. Sam turned his head to look even though he already knew whom it was.

"Dean," he croaked. "You're just in time for the party."

And then he passed out.

* * *

Dean threw up the parking brake and flung himself out of the Impala. What he saw made him skid to a halt.

It was Seraph.

To be more precise, it was Seraph's wings.

The vigilante was crouching over an unconscious Sam, wings spread in the single most alpha male gesture Dean had ever seen. It reminded him of a wolf with its hackles raise or a lion's roar--the top predator asserting its undying authority. They stretched out on either side of Seraph's body, at least twenty feet in length and a good six feet in height.

But it was the color that really made Dean's eyes pop.

They were the glossiest black he had ever seen, just like Cas's tattoo except tenfold, shining with a dark inner fire. The light caught the feathers and reflected in every color, the ones Dean could name and the ones he couldn't, a kind of prism only in the negative. And when the feathers shifted he could see whirls of color and shapes moving in them, like whole galaxies were contained within and he'd be able to see them properly if only they'd stop moving long enough to let him look. It was like the night sky, filled with supernovas and star clusters and nebulas, veiled behind a glamour of color and light tricks, seeable only in the instant before he blinked. It was the most mysterious and awesome thing Dean had ever seen. He could have spent years staring into those depths and never gotten enough. The wings were all and nothing, every color and refraction of light and none of them all at the same time, shining and hidden all at once and Dean couldn't get enough of their beauty.

The second they got out of this thing he was going to run his fingers through those wings and tell Cas just how beautiful they were.

Well, okay, after he checked up on Sam and gave Ruby a proper beating.

Asmodeus had his wings as well, but they looked like they'd been roasted over an open flame for a good few days. There were no feathers left --just the skeleton. The bones were glowing strangely. Dean would say it was an orange glow, but there was a black heart to it that darkened it. Where the feathers had been there was a kind of smoky, ashy cloud, like the burnt imprint of what had once been.

The two stood there, angel and devil, poised like cobras.

And then Dean slammed the car door shut.

The sound rang through the air and snapped something inside of both Asmodeus and Seraph, and they lunged for each other. Dean had never seen Seraph in action before, not really remembering his rescue and not having had the opportunity since, and he had to say--Cas knew what he was doing. The guy was a freaking whirlwind, deadly and swift in his movements, a true speed fighter who went for the kill and took no quarter.

Unfortunately, his opponent was good too.

Dean circled, slowly working his way closer, drawing his father's colt out of his waistband. He'd left his usual piece at home but had always kept the colt in the Impala's glove box, just in case. Now all he had to do was get a clean shot off.

But even by the time he'd reached Sam and checked for damage, Dean still couldn't find a way. The two fighters were so entangled, moving so quickly, that he couldn't fire without risking Cas's life as well. He even went so far as to raise the colt, but he didn't have a clean shot.

If he hit Cas, he was never going to forgive himself.

"Just shoot!" Cas shouted. He sounded ferocious. "Just shoot, Dean!"

The momentary distraction was all that Asmodeus needed, and he clocked a one-two blow right at Cas's kidneys. Cas stumbled, bending over a little, and Asmodeus grabbed Cas's head, smashing it into his knee.

Cas went down like a sack of bricks.

Dean fired the second Cas sank to the ground, the bullet lodging itself into Asmodeus's shoulder.

"Fucking son of a bitch," Dean snarled, firing again, this time hitting the man in the opposite leg. Asmodeus's body twisted as he fell, and Dean finally got a good look at his face.

It was Lucifer.

Beyond disgusted, Dean watched as Lucifer wheezed and coughed, his eyes sliding closed. Dean crouched down to investigate, the colt still smoking in his hand. Blood was pouring from the wounds but the bastard was breathing. Dean turned away, revolted. Lucifer would probably live, but that wasn't his problem right now. Let the asshole lie in his bodily fluids for a while.

"Sam?" Dean called.

"I'm okay," came the reply. "Ruby's gone."

"Fuck her," Dean retorted.

Sam gave him the sad puppy face, and Dean sighed.

"Victor and the others are on their way. You truss up demon king over there," Dean ordered.

He didn't wait for Sam's reply before dashing across the space to where Seraph lay. Dean's stomach clenched viciously as he knelt beside the prone figure.

"No, Cas,  _Cas_." Dean felt for a pulse. It was there--faint and stuttering, but it was there. He started CPR. "C'mon, c'mon…" He muttered.

After the second round of mouth-to-mouth, he got a response. Cas's eyes flew open as he sucked in a deep, rasping breath. "Dean?" He croaked.

Dean released the breath he'd been holding, his eyes burning.

"You asshole," Dean breathed. "You fucking  _asshole_."

He kissed him, hot and openmouthed, sliding their tongues together the second Cas granted him access.

"Never do that again," he ordered.

"All right," Cas replied automatically. Then his eyes widened almost comically, but before he could speak Dean attacked his mouth again, delving into the welcoming heat.

"Dean…" Cas rasped against his lips, his hands coming up to grip Dean's wrist and still him. "There's something–"

"It's you," Dean cut him off. He could see Cas's eyes widen again under the mask and grinned. "What, you thought I couldn't figure it out? Give me some credit, man."

"I was going to tell you," Cas grumbled as Dean started to peel the mask off.

"Tonight, yeah, that's what you had the whole special-dinner thing for." Dean said, pushing the mask back to reveal Cas's face. He smiled, watching as Cas's dark hair flopped into his eyes, his face sweaty from the mask, his eyes shining bright as ever. Dean traced a finger over the lines of the face he'd grown to know better than his own, wondering how he could ever have doubted. Of course they were the same person. That loyalty, that compassion, that determination to do good… and that sheer stubbornness that he could handle things himself, that one-man-army complex almost as big as Dean's own… the backbone of steel, hiding underneath that gentle surface… Of course it was Cas. It had always been Cas.

"I'm sorry," Cas murmured as Dean helped him to sit upright.

"I know," Dean replied. There was so much that he wanted to tell Cas: about how it all made sense now, about how the very thought of losing Cas was the most painful thing he could imagine, about how terrified he'd been… but when he tried to speak, the words just weren't there.

So he kissed him instead, pulling at Cas until the vigilante was almost in Dean's lap, feeling the gloved fingers run through his hair and holding Cas's face in his hands.

"Okay, so I got–- _what the hell, Dean?_ "

Cas broke away, his head sinking down to rest on Dean's chest as he burst into laughter. Dean had never heard Cas all-out laugh before, and it punched a surprised chuckle out of him as well.

Sam glared. "You think this is funny, Dean? You're cheating on Cas and you're–"

"Trust me Sammy, Cas ain't gonna mind," Dean wheezed in between bouts of laughter.

Sam's bitchface was truly a sight to behold. "And how do you know?"

Cas managed to raise his head and turn it so that he was facing Sam. "Are you all right, Sam?"

Sam blanched and he took an involuntary step back. "What? You? He–-Dean? You? It's… what?"

Dean's entire body was shaking with his laughter. It must've been the leftover adrenaline coupled with his relief but suddenly this was the most hilarious thing he'd ever seen.

"Yeah, Sammy. I'm dating the biggest badass on the east coast." Dean grinned at his brother. "Now if you don't mind my boyfriend nearly died just now so I'd like to get back to making out with him."

"You two are disgusting," Sam declared. "I'm going to wait outside for the cavalry."

Dean barely even heard him. He was too busy letting Cas attack his mouth again.

* * *

By the time Victor, Benny, Jo, Anna and the other cops arrived at the scene Seraph was long gone. Lucifer was carted off to Arkham, nearly catatonic but still alive, while Lilith's body was taken to the morgue. Despite hours of searching there was no sign of Ruby anywhere, something Dean knew ate at Sam. She was a bitch but Sam had loved her, and whether it was stupid or not he still cared.

Dean and Sam gave their statements, recounting the events truthfully up until the point where Dean shot Lucifer. Dean claimed that after that Seraph had stumbled to his feet, helping Dean and Sam to truss Lucifer up, and waiting until he heard the GPD arrive before taking off.

"I guess you could say we all saved each other's asses," Dean explained.

"Sounds like you made quite a team," Anna said, her lips twitching.

"Whatever you say," Dean lowered his voice. "Valkyrie."

Anna whacked him over the head with her notepad.

Dean drove Sam home after everything was taken care of, settling down to watch crap television until his brother fell asleep draped across the couch, his head on Dean's knee like when they were kids. Dean eased his way off the couch, getting a pillow and a blanket and switching off the television. The glow from the solitary lamp made Sam look years younger, almost a boy again.

"I'm proud of you, Sammy," Dean whispered.

And he was. Sure, Ruby had tricked him, but anyone would have fallen for that. Hell Cas could have been dating Dean just for inside information on the GPD and Dean would've fallen for it hook, line and sinker. Sam had killed Lilith and made a good attempt at escape before Cas or Dean had gotten there, and he'd saved Ruby's life, which was more than most people would have done.

Dean' s only wish was that he could have somehow spared Sam the pain.

When he got back to the manor, Balthazar was waiting for him. "I see you've come back," the butler said cautiously.

"Why wouldn't I?" Dean challenged.

Balthazar didn't rise to the bait. "I'm glad," was all he said.

Dean doubted he'd ever be the best of friends with the guy, but he could respect him. Balthazar had spent his entire life taking care of Cas, protecting him when his older brothers refused to. If Dean had broken Cas's heart, Balthazar would have been the one to try and repair it.

It was nice to know that he finally had Balthazar's approval.

Dean turned to go upstairs, but Balthazar took his arm and led him another way--into a side room that Dean had never been in.

"This belonged to Castiel's father," Balthazar explained. He approached a grandfather clock that was standing against the wall, and nodded at it. "Watch what I do."

He reached out and pressed a hidden button along the paneling. Dean watched as a hidden door swung open, revealing a yawning opening and stone steps that led downwards.

"He's down there," Balthazar said.

Dean needed no other prompting. He hurried down the steps, taking caution because of the unfamiliarity but going as fast as he dared until he reached the bottom where he stopped, awestruck.

The place was fucking massive. It was a cave with stalactites and everything, but it had been converted into a base of operations. An immense computer system, with multiple consoles and monitors, took up one wall, while a science lab was spread across the other. There was a huge training area with a fight mat, acrobat beams, and weapons– the whole shebang. And off to the side gleaming like brand new was the infamous Wingmobile.

Dean might have drooled a little when he saw that.

But what arrested his attention was the man sitting in what appeared to be a medical area, applying ointment to the ugly bruises dotting his chest and arms. The wings were still out, quivering slightly whenever Castiel touched a particularly sore spot. Even in the harsh industrial light of the cave, the wings were like deep oceans, a shimmering surface with shadowy worlds lurking just underneath. Castiel was so intent on his work that he didn't even notice Dean until the ointment was taken out of his scraped hands, Dean taking over the first aid administration.

"Son of a bitch really did a number on you," Dean murmured as he gently bandaged the various wounds.

"He was the toughest opponent I have ever faced," Cas admitted.

Dean hummed in reply.

"I'm not giving this up," Cas said. "I can't give up on my mission."

"I know," Dean said. "I wouldn't ask you to."

"It was for my parents," Cas explained. "I never wanted anyone to lose their family the way I did."

Dean nodded. "I figured as much."

With everything properly bandaged and cared for, Dean stepped back to allow Cas to stand up. Cas winced as his feet hit the floor, and Dean hurried forward to steady him.

"I guess this means no sex tonight?" He asked, trying to lighten the mood.

There was a wicked gleam in Cas's eyes. "I can think of a few things we could still do."

Dean chuckled, feathering a kiss to Cas's temple. "We're okay, right?" He asked. "This doesn't change anything?"

"Should it?" Cas replied. His face was open, his eyes pleading, and Dean's heart fluttered.

"No." Dean's voice brooked no argument. His eyes roamed over Cas's face, drinking it in. How he'd ever landed this amazing, amazing man, he had no idea.

"Let's get you to bed," he said, looping Cas's arm over his shoulder in order to help him up the stairs. "And maybe get you some painkillers."

He wrangled Cas into bed first before ridding himself of his clothing, sliding in to join him. He carefully arranged them so that they were still cuddling, but Cas wasn't aggravating his injuries.

"I love you, Dean," Cas whispered as he slipped into sleep.

"I love you too, Cas," Dean replied.

Yeah, he thought to himself. Nothing had changed.


	9. Chapter 9

"Do I look okay?"

Sam frowned. "You look great. Stop worrying."

"Wrong thing to say to someone right before they get married, Sammy."

"Don't listen to them," Jo said. She came forward and smoothed the fabric. "You look stunning."

Charlie blushed deep enough to match her hair. "Thanks."

Dean grinned broadly. He was chosen to be Charlie's Best Man, with Sam and Ash as her bridegrooms. Castiel would be giving Anna away, with Jo as her Maid of Honor. Dean couldn't have been prouder.

And Charlie did look stunning. She was wearing a form-fitting dress that fanned out at the bottom, layers of draping cloth overlapping and becoming a short train at the back. The dress had a scooping neckline with Renaissance slit sleeves, a tiny lace design embroidering the entire piece. Her hair was in some kind of style that Jo called a 'bird's nest' that Dean couldn't even begin to process the mechanics of but looked lovely. And, of course, there was the smile that couldn't have been pried off with a crowbar.

"You ready?" He asked.

Charlie took a deep breath.

"Of course she's ready," Jo said. "She's marrying the love of her life."

"You go and help Anna, Joanna Beth," Dean ordered.

Jo gave Charlie a kiss on the cheek. "Go get 'er, tiger!"

Charlie laughed. "Thanks, Jo." She bit her lip. "Tell her that I love her and this is going to be amazing and not to be nervous and–"

"You can tell her yourself in a minute," Jo informed her. "Now go! Get into position!"

Sam gave Charlie a hug and a kiss on the forehead before dashing off to give the organist a two-minute warning. Dean hugged Charlie too, feeling how tightly she clung to him.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

"There's no reason to be," he replied. "This is just a day, Charlie. The rest of your lives together, that's what matters. And going by how sickeningly adorable you two have been for the past year, I don't think you're going to have any problems."

Charlie pulled back, smiling. "Okay."

Dean grinned. "Now c'mon. Bobby's gotta roll you down the aisle."

After safely depositing Charlie with Bobby, who was muttering things about highfalutin' society people, always turning things into a grand affair, Dean made his way up to the podium. Of course, being cousin to the Novaks, Anna's wedding was a white-tie affair complete with the crème de la crème of society, but Dean knew it was for show, mostly to placate Michael. And for proof of that he needed to look no further than the front row of the church.

Ellen was sitting next to Jody, Rufus and Kevin at her side, with Victor, Benny, and even Gabe filling up the rest of the row. Seeing them filled Dean's chest with pride. His little sister was getting married to one of his best friends, and his entire family was there to see it.

He took his place next to Sam and Ash, who was fiddling with his bowtie. "You got the rings?" He asked.

"Of course I've got the rings. Stop messing with it, you'll make it worse," Dean chastised. Ash flipped him off amicably.

The organist began to play, and everyone's eyes turned towards the front doors.

A few young ladies from among Gotham's elite made their way down the aisle, since according to Anna not including them would result in a huge social mess she did not intend to clean up, and then Jo was walking down the aisle, throwing Victor a saucy wink that had the detective grinning like a fool.

"I think I'm going to cry," Jo confessed with a whisper. Sam, ever prepared, passed her a handkerchief.

The music changed to Mendelssohn's  _Wedding March_  and the doors opened once again, revealing Charlie in all of her shining white glory. She held Bobby's hand as he rolled down the aisle, positively glowing.

"Lookin' good," Dean whispered as she stepped up to the podium.

"Thanks," Bobby grunted.

"You too old man," Dean grinned.

The music changed again, this time to Pachelbel's  _Canon_ , and the doors opened for the last time.

Anna was a vision, her dress similar in many ways to Charlie's but also differing. It was formfitting, but the train and layers of fabric were made entirely of lace, while the neckline was strapless with lace covering her neck, shoulders, and draping her arms. Her hair was down in loose ringlets, and her smile when she saw Charlie was bright enough to light up the entire building.

Ash would later point out that this was the moment Sam and Jo burst into tears.

But Dean, for the life of him, couldn't focus on either blushing bride. His gaze was arrested and held by the man whose arm was hooked through Anna's, walking her down the aisle.

Castiel was wearing a charcoal gray morning suit, complete with a waistcoat and pocket watch (Anna had insisted) and that damned blue tie that perfectly matched his eyes. Logically, Dean knew he'd seen Cas that morning, waking up next to him and rushing through breakfast together before heading over to the church, but it felt like he'd never actually  _seen_  Cas before.

Judging by the way Cas was looking at him, thunderstruck and mesmerized, he was having the same reaction that Dean was.

Cas handed Anna off to Charlie with a warning glare that reminded him so much of Seraph that Dean had to hold in laughter. Cas's eyes rose, meeting his, and he could see the amused gleam in Cas's eyes.

Dean realized that it would be an hour-long ceremony, a luxurious garden party luncheon on the Novak Manor grounds, and a white tie reception at the manor followed by a fireworks display before he would be able to get Cas alone.

Damn it.

Cas must have read his thoughts because he sent Dean a fond smirk before turning his whole attention on the ceremony. Dean sighed inwardly and focused as much as he could upon what the pastor was saying.

His legs were numb by the end of it.

At least he got to sit next to Cas at the luncheon, where he got the shock of his life when Victor kissed Jo's cheek before they sat down across from him.

"Something you want to share?" Dean asked, looking back and forth from Jo to Victor.

"He grew a pair last Friday, if that's what you're wondering," Jo said casually, helping herself to some lemonade.

Dean tried to remember what had happened last Friday. He'd always assumed that it would take a life-threatening situation for Jo and Victor to get their shit together, but he couldn't recall anything particularly dangerous that had gone down.

"Sometimes it's the little things, Dean," Cas intoned in his ear.

"Stop that," Dean growled, not really upset but happy to tease. He eyeballed Cas. "You sure you don't have some freaky mind-reading ability to go with those wings?"

"I assure you, my extra appendages are the only unusual thing about me," Cas replied. "I just happen to know you very well. And your face is easy to read."

Dean snorted, but sought Cas's hand out under the table, intertwining their fingers. He had never enjoyed the little things, like handholding, until Cas, but now he couldn't get enough of it.

Maybe Cas had a point.

The reception was God-awful and the only reason he endured it was because Cas was there with him. Okay, and because Sam broke down halfway through his speech and needed to be handed a napkin to dab at his eyes. Bobby and Ellen both talked about how Charlie had become a daughter to them, Victor and Benny said how Anna was the best damn cop on the force (Dean was miffed until Victor pointed out that as the Commissioner, he didn't count anymore), Jo got teary-eyed as she told about how Charlie was her best friend and Anna was the big sister she'd never had, Ash complained about Charlie's annoyingly good computer skills, and Gabriel gave an expectedly humorous but surprisingly touching speech about his 'favorite cousin'.

"I'm your only cousin," Anna pointed out.

"Moot point," Gabriel retorted, waving it off.

Dean didn't know how he would have gotten through his Best Man speech if it weren't for Cas, who'd helped him to write it. Both Anna and Charlie meant a lot to him, but he'd never been good with words. Cas, however, was a freaking literary master, and had helped Dean to put on paper all the things he felt.

Cas's speech, of course, was Dean's favorite. Maybe it was because unlike the others gathered around them, he knew just how important both Charlie and Anna were in Cas's life. They were his partners-in-stopping-crime, and Anna had been there through the dark periods of Cas's life, sharing his burden and his pain as best she could. After Alfred's death, both Balthazar and Cas had combined forces to raise Anna, especially seeing as she'd lost her parents twice, and Cas had watched Charlie grow up same as the rest of them. Long before Dean had gotten there, Charlie and Anna had kept Cas together, trying to pick up the pieces.

And Dean had to admit; Balthazar had outdone himself. The butler had refused to let an upstart wedding designer take charge of his pseudo-little sister's big day, and had taken it upon himself to handle everything. The entire day went smoothly, and Dean was far from complaining about the food.

When dinner was finally finished (seriously, how many courses did a meal need?) and the cake was cut (he might have snuck a second piece), it was time for the dance portion.

Ugh.

Still, it was nice to see Charlie and Anna's waltzing lessons paying off, and the gooey love-struck looks they were giving each other were adorable. Dean saw Victor leading Jo out onto the floor when it was opened up to everyone, refusing to let their immense height difference get in the way of dancing as absolutely close together as possible. Ellen was practically sitting in Bobby's lap, both of them laughing fit to kill, and Rufus and Jody were showing off their dancing skills. Kevin, newly minted CFO of Novak Industries, was chatting up an attractive brunette that Dean had been briefly introduced to earlier–-Krissy something.

Ash was also trying his luck with some of Gotham's elite, although he seemed to be striking out, and Benny was talking with–-holy crap, Lisa?

Dean almost laughed out loud. He did not see that one coming.

Even Michael seemed to be having a good time, actually smiling (which was kind of creepy) and appearing to have made up with Adam. Gabriel was definitely having a good time, although by the way he was circling the room he was clearly trying to talk to Kali.

And Sam…

Where was Sam?

Dean looked around. Was Sam okay? Dean had worried that the whole wedding thing would be difficult for Sam, but he'd been waved off with a  _stop worrying, Dean, I'm fine_. It took him a few tries but he finally located his younger brother.

Talking to Sarah Blake.

Make that  _dancing_ with Sarah Blake.

"Look at you, you sly dog. You're doing just fine." Dean grinned.

"I doubt Sam will appreciate you spying on him."

Dean jumped. "Will you ever stop doing that?"

He could hear the smile in Cas's voice. "No."

Dean turned, his hand coming up to grab Cas's wrist. "C'mere."

Cas obliged him, letting Dean pull him in for a kiss. "Can't wait to get you alone," Dean whispered.

Cas sighed against his lips. "I have to go out on patrol soon."

Dean nodded. "I know. You still have a few minutes though, right?"

Cas's answer was to trace Dean's mouth with his tongue before sealing their lips together again, coaxing a moan out of Dean.

"Please tell me there's an empty room nearby," he panted.

Cas grinned. "You know, we haven't done it in the cave yet."

Dean practically dragged Cas out of the room.

* * *

When Sam first saw her, he nearly dropped the glass of champagne he was holding.

"Sarah?" Sam was shocked. Sarah Blake looked… well, it had been three years but she looked lovelier than ever. "What are you doing here?"

Sarah laughed. "Sam Winchester, as smooth a talker as ever," she teased, opening her arms for a hug.

She smelled just as good as he remembered.

"It's good to see you," Sam told her. He'd had genuine feelings for her, although he hadn't been in a position to act on them at the time. He'd been too fearful, too in shock, and had honestly still been in mourning for Jess. And then Madison had come, love at first sight hitting him like a Mack truck to the face, and once she was gone too…

"It's good to see you too." Sarah smiled. "And I'm here as Gabe's date."

"Gabe? Gabriel Novak?" Sam glanced around, looking for the smarmy shortstack. "How do you know him?"

"He's bought art off of me over the years." Sarah leaned in, her smile growing. "But don't worry. I'm just here to make Kali jealous."

Sam groaned. "If he would just man up and admit he's head over heels in love with her, the entire DA's office would sleep better at night."

Sarah laughed. "I'm sure. But how are you doing? I heard about…" She bit her lip.

"Don't worry," Sam said. "Everyone's heard about it by now." Thanks to Chuck Shurley and Becky Rosen the entire city knew about Ruby, who was now known as the villain Janus.

At least they didn't know about the whole Asmodeus thing, or Sam wouldn't have left his house for a year.

"I'm good," he assured her. "I really am." And he was. Dean didn't believe it but Sam was actually doing pretty well. Sure, it hurt to think of how Ruby had used him, but he was tired of being a victim. In a way, Ruby had been good for him. He'd gotten over his fear and his guilt, and had emerged on the other side a stronger person than when he'd set out. He was going to try and seize his happiness, no matter what.

Speaking of which…

"You want to dance?" Sam inclined his head towards the couples swirling around--some a bit drunkenly--on the dance floor. Jo and Victor weren't even dancing anymore, just standing there and swaying slightly while they made out. Charlie and Anna had long since stopped dancing, sitting with Anna in Charlie's lap while they whispered in each other's ears.

Sarah's smile was dazzling. "I'd like that," she said, letting him take her hand.

* * *

Dean stretched his arms above his head, feeling the pleasant burn that came with enthusiastic sex. Cas was already up, getting into his suit for patrol. His wings were flared out, the glow from the lamps reflecting off the glossy feathers like colored light on deep water. Dean wondered if Cas realized how damn sexy he looked, getting into the form-fitting outfit to go and save the city.

He grinned, grabbing his pants and slipping them on as he stood up. He didn't bother zipping them, striding over to Cas and kissing him without preamble. Cas made a startled noise but reciprocated, sucking Dean's tongue into his mouth. Dean lifted his hands up and buried his fingers into the feathers, stroking them and massaging the base where the wings met Cas's spine. Cas keened, arching helplessly into Dean's touch.

"I have to go, Dean," he protested breathlessly.

"Just a little something to remember me by," Dean said with a wink.

Cas grabbed his hips, grinding shamelessly against Dean. "I always remember you," he replied, his voice low and harsh. "I protect this city for the people I love, Dean, and you are at the top of that list."

Dean's heart stuttered before thudding loudly against his ribcage. "Good," he whispered, "Because I happen to love you too."

Cas's wings flared slightly in pleasure as he smiled, drawing Dean in for one last kiss that left Dean aching. Dean loved when they were alone and Cas could show his wings, because those damn expressive appendages revealed every emotion Cas was feeling.

"So who's on the loose tonight?" He asked, taking a step back before he seriously made Cas late. Anna and Charlie both had the night off so Cas was doing double duty without Pythia's electronic backup. Cas had assured Dean that he would be fine--he'd patrolled on his own for years before Anna discovered his secret and Charlie came along--but Dean couldn't help but worry. He wondered if he'd ever truly stop worrying, stop checking the news for sightings and info, panic seizing his chest in an icy grip.

But if that was the price he had to pay for being with Cas, he was willing.

Cas slipped on his mask. "Dr. Chill was released last week, and my sources indicate he's going to hit a blood bank on the East Side. Kitten is up to her old tricks and Janus is still at large, but other than those two it should be a quiet night."

Dean snorted. "If your fist slips and connects with her face, I wouldn't mind." He would never forgive Ruby for what she'd done, and her continued evasion of justice irked him.

Cas sent Dean a chastising glare, which Dean deflected with a grin. "You are impossible, Dean Winchester."

"Same to you, Castiel Novak," Dean replied.

Cas made to step into the car but Dean got there first, pulling him in for one last kiss. "I'll be waiting when you get back," he promised, pressing their foreheads together.

He felt Cas smile against his lips.

And then he was gone, being the badass vigilante saving the city, banishing the darkness that threatened their home, one criminal at a time. He patrolled at night while Dean took command in the day, and between the two of them Dean thought Gotham just might have a chance. And no matter what happened during those patrols, Cas would always come back to him.

And Dean would always be waiting.


End file.
